


Take the Hit

by madame_meretrix (laisserais)



Category: CW Network RPF
Genre: Addiction, Angst and Humor, Daddy Issues, M/M, Other, Recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-21
Updated: 2010-10-21
Packaged: 2017-10-12 19:35:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 29,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/128317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laisserais/pseuds/madame_meretrix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jared sees himself as broken. He's aimless, tired of defining himself by his past but unclear about how to change it. Jensen is his best friend; Jared would do anything for him. Eventually Jared understands that everyone has some kind of baggage, it's just a matter of how you learn to let it go.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take the Hit

**Author's Note:**

> **Other Pairings:** Jensen/Jeff, Jared/Misha, Jensen/Jeff/Jared, Rosenbaum/Welling/Heigl, Sarah Shahi/Kate Moennig
> 
>  **Beta:** electricalgwen, who is a deep thinker, an amazing cheerleader, a patient person, and who helped make this story way better. Any remaining mistakes are mine.
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** This is a work of fiction, made without malicious or profitable intent.  
>  **Note:** I'm warning that I'm not going to warn you about what happens in this story. It contains adult content; read at your own risk. Also, yes, the pairings look crackified, but J2 is center of the story, promise.

  
**Take the Hit**   


The door swings open, but Jared doesn't look up until he hears the slap of paper hitting the basket.

"Uh, hi. Can I get three copies of the tabbed pages, collated and stapled, by three o'clock?"

Jared flips his book over with a sigh, says, "Yeah. Sure."

The guy smiles like he's sorry for interrupting and walks out. Jared thumbs through the folder; he figures out the easiest way to run the job without having to stop reading, sets it up, hits 'start' and goes back to reading. The machine hums underneath his arms where they're propped up on the cover. Jared leans into it and turns the page.

The door swings open again, and this time a hand slaps down on top of the copier. "Stop reading at work," Mike barks.

Jared looks up. Mike's smiling, and Jared can't tell if he's serious. Jared doesn't think so; they've had this discussion before. As far as Jared's concerned, if Mike can surf porn at his desk, there's no reason Jared can't read while he's doing other shit. His job is boring; half the time all he does is stand around and wait for people to bring him something to do.

"How was lunch?" he asks, setting his book to the side.

"Burgers and beer," Mike says, and then belches loudly. "I need a nap. Heigl went home sick, so you can do the afternoon mail run."

Mike is an enormous douchebag sometimes. He's lazy and foul-mouthed and Jared's pretty sure he's having a secret affair with the guy in records--they have lunch together like practically every single day--but he also gave Jared his job, and most of the time he doesn't care what Jared does, so long as the work gets done.

Jared nods, heading over to the mail-sorting station. "What's new in records?"

Mike logs on to his computer, shrugs. "Tommy got a new Xbox. Says the graphics are sick."

Jared watches Mike start up Internet Explorer and turn up the volume. Pandora comes up, and then the mailroom is flooded with Michael Jackson. He finishes sorting the mail into the cart and heads out quickly. Mike's tastes in music keeps all the lawyers out, which is nice, but sometimes Jared wonders which is worse: lawyers or eighties pop.

He decides to do the mail route backwards, so that he hits Jensen's desk last. If he hustles, he can finish up in time for Jensen's afternoon break.

He starts upstairs in records, and Tom's regaling the other record keeper with how kick ass Treadmillasaurus Rex is, which would probably be a more effective pitch if she wasn't an octogenarian who barely speaks English. Imelda's four foot eleven in heels, a pocket-sized powerhouse who makes the most awesome food that Jared can never remember the names of, but eats all the same. Tom gives it the old college try anyhow, and she's staring at him with a cryptic smile, like he's a Labrador who's learned a new trick, when Jared flumps down a stack of crap for them to re-file.

"Hey," he says.

"Hey, Jared!" Tom says, "What's up, my man? You got an Xbox?"

"No. Don't have a TV."

Tom blinks. Jared slouches against the handle of the mail cart. This is the reaction he gets from everyone when they find out. He's definitely weird, he guesses, but whatever. He's never really had much stuff, and when he moved here, all he had was half a suitcase and a crate of records. Never saw much point in accumulating stuff; it just weighed you down.

"Oh. Well, man, I'm telling you, this game--"

"Where Katie?" Imelda interrupts Tom. Jared looks over. She loves Katie, always asking her when she's going to get married, when she's going to quit working and raise kids. Katie always laughs, and when she tilts her head back, her tongue piercing catches the light. Katie's awesome--smart, sarcastic and totally self-possessed. The day she quits working to pop out babies will be the day they have snowball fights in hell.

"Katie went home sick," Jared says. "Besides, you missed me!" He grins wide and Imelda laughs, shakes her head.

Tom takes the stack of files off the counter, already dismissing him and the conversation. Jared glances at him out of the corner of his eye. Whenever Katie comes up, Tom scowls. He wonders what that's about.

He takes the pile of stuff Imelda hands him and makes his way back downstairs. "See you later!" he calls out, but no one answers him.

When he finally gets to Jensen's desk, Jensen's hunched over his computer with headphones over his ears. Jared stands there, hovering over the half-cubicle wall that separates Jensen's desk from the hallway. He feels dumb, too big and just standing there, but Jensen's transcribing something and the look of determination on his face is one that Jared's familiar with. Jensen won't look up until he's done. Jared rifles through the hanging files in his cart, pretending to look busy until Jensen clicks off the machine and sits back, stretching his shoulders. "Hey, man," he says.

"Hey," Jared says, and can't hold back a smile. It's stupid, but the brief time he gets to spend talking to Jensen is the highlight of his day. "It's two, can you take a break?"

Jensen looks at his desk, at the spread of papers and stuff all over it, and nods. "Yeah, want to go to the juice place?"

"Sure."

"Let me give this to Jeff and let him know. Meet you at the elevator?"

"Cool."

Jared wheels the cart back, grabs his coat and doesn't make eye contact with Mike. Jensen only ever agrees to take a break with him like once out of twenty times, and he'll be damned if he shares it with Mike, who'd totally want to tag along; not because he likes juice or Jensen, but because he's a lazy ass who'll take any excuse to leave work.

Jensen runs up to the elevators a full ten minutes later and Jared gives him a relieved smile. He'd started to think Jensen had forgotten, or gotten snared into some new project. Jeff's a total hard ass. Of all the lawyers in the firm, he's the biggest producer, or so Jared's heard. He knows next to nothing about law or what they do here, and he likes it that way. The only reason he cares about Jeff's work ethic is that it infringes on Jensen's free time.

"Ready?" Jensen asks and Jared's smile gets wider when Jensen smiles back.

"Yeah."

*

Jensen orders the usual: shot of wheatgrass and a blueberry smoothie. The smoothie's for Jeff, which means they can't linger too long. Jared's disappointed, but he'll take what he can get. Jared orders a chocolate peanut butter thing, extra large. He'd never come in here until Jensen had suggested it. Jensen's way into his health.

"So," Jared says. "Got a big deposition going on?"

Jensen nods, tossing back his shot and making a face. It's an adorable face. "Yeah. Had three transcripts this morning. Jeff's got a meeting tomorrow, then court. It's been busy."

Jared nods sympathetically. All of the lawyers they work with are blowhard windbags, inflated with an artificial sense of importance, but in Jared's estimation, Jeff is the worst. Maybe it's because he's the youngest partner in the firm and therefore has something to prove, or maybe it's just because he's a dick, Jared doesn't know. But he does know that in the short time Jared's been at the firm, Jeff's gone through half a dozen assistants, finally stealing Jensen away from one of the founding partners, because the one before him had broken down in tears and quit.

Jensen's the best, and not just because Jared's got a crush on him bigger than Texas. He's the best legal assistant at the firm, period, and everyone knows it.

"Got any plans for the weekend?" Jared asks, wanting to steer the conversation away from the drudgery of work. And because while they've hung out occasionally outside of work, Jared always feels like he has to screw his courage up to ask again. Like each time is the very first time.

Jensen plays with the straw in Jeff's cup, pulling it out and shoving it back in. Jared watches. "Uh, yeah, I don't know. Thinking about looking at cars. The carburetor's shot on mine, and the estimate to fix it's almost as much as just getting a new one."

"No shit? Wow. You know what kind you want to get?" Jared knows less about cars than he does about Xboxes and lawyers, but he knows that Jensen's piece of shit Honda is on its last legs. He can't even open the passenger side door anymore. Whenever they go anywhere in it, Jared has to climb over the driver's side. It's awkward.

Jensen shrugs. They're at the last stoplight before they get back to the office and there's a pang in Jared's stomach. It's stupid: he knows this is only a stolen few moments and he knows that he'll see Jensen again, but. It's like he can't get enough. Like there's never enough time to say all the things he wants to say. They never have enough time. "Well, I've been looking at Consumer Reports. Maybe something sensible, you know? Like a Hyundai or a Kia."

Jared nods. Those would be sensible choices, but he can sense that Jensen's not really into them. "Yeah? What would you get if you could get any car in the world?"

Jensen looks up, and there's a startled light in his eyes. He smiles. Jared feels a flare of want burn up bright and hot.

"Any car in the world? Uh." He laughs. "I don't know. Aston Martins are pretty cool."

"Yeah, that's the car James Bond drives, right?"

"Yeah. Couldn't you picture a secretary pulling up to work in one of those?"

Jensen's self-deprecating laugh makes Jared want to hug him, tell him that he could be anything he wants. Doesn't have to be a secretary for the rest of his life. But he doesn't do it. After all, who'd listen to the mailroom guy?

"Hey, how's your book coming along?"

Jensen's been working on a novel, a noir thriller set in World War II Los Angeles. 'Sort of West meets Fante with a dash of Bukowski' he'd called it, laughing at his own pretensions. He's been telling Jared bits and pieces of it as it grows. Jared thinks it's awesome. Privately, he thinks that Jensen could totally get published. He's a natural-born storyteller, and Jared reads a lot. He knows what's good and what sucks.

"Oh." Jensen hits the 'up' button at the elevator bank, and Jared again feels their time slipping through his fingertips. "You know, slowly. Where was I at last time?"

Jared remembers precisely: "Pearl Harbor just happened, and your cop was approached by the mysterious woman who needed help finding her husband."

"Yeah, right, right. Well, so okay, the cop gets a tip to find this grifter, right? There's this guy, he's kind of shady, has connections to the underworld. He like, I don't know, maybe hustles pool, maybe runs numbers. And he's got information on the husband. So the cop goes and finds him. Hey Justin."

Jared blinks. They're in the lobby and the receptionist, Justin, is waving at them. "Hey," he says, and turns his attention back to Jensen. "Yeah? Cool. And then what happens?"

Jensen shrugs. "I don't know. This grifter came out of nowhere. I'm not sure what to do with him yet."

"Hm," Jared says, sucking on his straw. "Do you think the husband got tangled up in the mob or something? Maybe the grifter ran a con on him?"

"Yeah, I don't know." Jensen's smiling at him. They're at the door to the mailroom and Jared resolutely doesn't sigh in disappointment. Never enough fucking time. "Well, have a good weekend, man," Jensen says.

Jared watches him walk down the hall. "Yeah, you too." He's back at the copier before he remembers that he forgot to ask Jensen if he wanted to hang out this weekend. He ditches the rest of his smoothie and realizes it's a stupid idea anyway. There's no way Jensen would want to watch a lame band play in a smelly old warehouse. That isn't Jensen's style.

*

Jared does go to see the lame band play in a smelly old warehouse. The band's not that lame, really, just kind of rough around the edges. Which is, he guesses, the point. It's old-school punk revival meets neo-blues, and he's there because he likes the sound, but he's also there to support his friends. Well, acquaintances, anyway. Two of the girls in the band he knows from N.A. meetings, and they'd given him a flyer last week. Jared's making a point of being more sociable, even when he doesn't feel like it, because that's what you're supposed to do in recovery: when you don't feel like being around people, they tell him, get yourself to a meeting.

Truth is, he hasn't felt like being around anyone--Jensen excluded--for months. But he shows up and pretends, hoping that sooner or later it will take, and he'll actually like being around people again. He remembers a time when it was true.

Jared makes a lap around the space as the band plays. Evidently it's someone's house as well as a venue; there's a room set up in one corner, sectioned off from the rest via sheets hung from clothesline, and beyond them he sees a couple making out on a mattress on the floor. He steps away quickly. Across the room in a dimly lit corner is a couch and a couple of chairs around a coffee table, littered with PBR cans and, hand to god, someone snorting coke off a mirror. What the fuck.

He avoids it and heads back to the stage, where Sarah's banging on her bass like she hates it, eyes screwed shut and swaying. Kate's wailing into the microphone and a handful of skinny, dirty, dreadlocked punks are nodding their heads along in front. No one's dancing or anything. Heaven forefend anyone show a genuine appreciation for the music.

Afterwards, Sarah jumps down and comes up to him. "Hey, Jared, glad you could make it!" She's bright-eyed and sweaty. She pushes her hair off her forehead and comes in for a hug. Jared hugs her back. Sarah's always reminded him of Sandy, but in a way that doesn't hurt. They're both little, with dark hair and really sweet. Only, Sarah's way more punk rock. She'd probably kick the ass of anyone who called her sweet.

"Of course! Wouldn't miss it. You guys rocked."

"Yeah? Thanks. We've been working on some new stuff. Kate's been making us listen to Howlin' Wolf and Sam Cooke. Trying to get that old blues sound, you know?"

Sarah's eyes skim the room and Jared can tell when they land on the coke-snorting group in the corner. "Yeah, yeah," he says, trying to angle himself so she can't see it. Coke was her thing, he's pretty sure. "I could really hear it. She's got a great voice."

Sarah focuses on him again with a tight smile. "So listen, I'll see you tomorrow morning? Nine AM?"

It's code for a meeting. Jared nods. "Definitely. Wouldn't miss it. Give Kate a hug for me."

They part ways; Jared guesses she's as anxious to get out of there as he is. He'll catch up with her tomorrow, in a safer space to talk. Right now, all he wants is to get out of the clamor and smoke of this warehouse. It's got him wound up and edgy. He needs light and silence and time for his own thoughts. He feels bad about it, but he bails.

*

It's not like he hasn't been around drug consumption before, because he has. Even post-rehab, he's been around people who were drinking and smoking pot, but something about last night shakes Jared up. Maybe it was the presentation: so many people, all young and beautiful, getting high like it was their birthright. Like it didn't mean anything, like they weren't fucking up their lives. Jared's spent a long time working to believe that one sip, one puff, one snort and it'll all be over for him. It's a slippery slope, he really does know that. But it's fucking hard to ignore the feeling that he's missing out. It feels like he can't be normal, can't just enjoy life like other people can, and that's a very dangerous feeling, so he goes to the meeting on Sunday morning and he makes a point of speaking, which is something he rarely does.

He stands up when they ask if anyone wants to share and says, "My name is Jared, and I'm an addict. I've got sixteen months clean." The chorus of 'Hi, Jared' washes over him, and that's as far as he can get. He hadn't planned out what he'd say. He looks around the room and everyone's looking back at him expectantly. Patiently. They're all silent, serious. Some look like they're in pain, some look serene, but they're all here with him, and that by itself makes him feel so much better. "And, uh. I just wanted to say that I'm grateful to be here today. I'm grateful y'all are here. So thanks. For being here."

After the meeting, he's helping to fold up chairs when Sarah comes up to him. "Hey," she says.

"Hey, Sarah. How's it going?"

She's shifty looking, won't meet his eyes. Jared stops folding chairs.

"Sarah? What's up?"

She looks up at him then. "Kate went out last night."

Jared takes in a breath. "Shit. I'm sorry."

Sarah looks at her hands. Nods. "Yeah. Fucking. I knew that show was a bad scene."

"Is she-- Did she come home?" Kate and Sarah live together. They'd met in the rooms, and even though you weren't supposed to hook up with anyone in the first year of recovery, they'd been together for years, defying the odds and all the naysayers who claimed that romantic relationships shifted your focus off your recovery. They were the first openly gay, recovering couple Jared had ever met, back when he was new, and he'd sort of grafted himself onto them like a lifeline. Kate relapsing feels a little bit like if his mom suddenly decided to start robbing banks. Unthinkable and terrifying.

Sarah shrugs. "I told her not to until she got her shit together." Jared tries to hide his wince. On the one hand, he understands: no way would he ever allow someone who was using to be around him. On the other though...it's Kate.

"God, Sarah, I'm so sorry." He drags her in for a hug and feels her struggle for a moment, and then gradually she starts sobbing. He holds her tighter until she calms down. "Want to go get some coffee?"

She pulls away, wiping at her face. She laughs shakily. "God yes. I'm afraid to go home right now. Don't know which will be worse: seeing her hungover or her not being there at all."

They sit at an outside table at a cafe. Long, silent stretches where they just watch people walk by, punctuated by random conversation, neither of them wanting to acknowledge the huge hole Kate's absence makes. Finally Sarah gets up and sighs.

"Thanks, Jared. You're a doll for sitting with me, but I can't avoid this forever. And I'm sure you've got stuff to do."

Jared stands up, too. "If you're sure. You can always call me, or come over, you know, whatever."

She nods and gives him a hug, then heads in the opposite direction of where he's going. Jared watches her go, heart heavy.

Kate better get her shit together. If she breaks Sarah's heart, he'll... Well. He doesn't know what, but he'll definitely be pissed. It's weird, he's never really asked them about their stuff. If they had drama before this, Jared hadn't noticed. He'd just assumed that they were the perfect couple; he'd gone to them with his troubles and never given too much thought about reciprocating. Now he feels bad about it. He should have been more aware. He should get more involved. He vows to be more of a friend to both of them in the future.

He decides to take the long way home because it's shadier and it's hot out. Plus, the long way takes him through the neighborhood, and he likes watching the kids and the dogs in the front yards, the families barbecuing and just hanging out on the front stoops. He likes the area where he lives, even if his building isn't exactly in the heart of it. He feels connected to the people he passes. The trees are all huge and overgrown and make sun-dappled patterns on the crooked, narrow sidewalks.

When he gets to the second floor in his building he stops. Misha's door is open and a thick waft of sandalwood floats out on a cloud of music. Sounds like Dead Can Dance or some kind of Bollywood soundtrack. He smiles. Misha's one crazy motherfucker, but Jared likes him. Good thing, too, since they share a wall.

He knocks on the open door and Misha calls, "Come in."

Jared passes through the beaded curtains in Misha's kitchen doorway. They tap together gently as they reform an image of Frida Kahlo. "Hey man, whatcha making?"

"Chana Masala. Want some?"

"Is that another ayurvedic vegan delicacy?" Jared flops down in the only chair. Misha's busy at the sink. He's going through a 'purification' phase where he only eats stuff that's pitta. Or maybe kapha, Jared can't remember. Misha had explained it all to him one day. It'd sounded complicated and boring. Jared never wants to spend that much time thinking about what he eats, he just wants to be able to sit down and eat it, clogged srotas be damned.

But Misha does make excellent food, even if it is vegan. And what's even better is that he likes to share. "Hell yes," Jared says. "What's in it? Oh, wait, hang on, lemme go throw some clothes in the wash. Save me some?"

"Always," says Misha.

Jared throws everything on his floor into a bag and runs to the basement. He's learned that if he waits too long on Sunday nights, he won't get a washer. Thankfully one is free and he shoves everything in it, cranks the knob and runs back up to Misha's.

Misha's sitting cross-legged on the floor, eating out of a bowl in his lap. Opposite him is a pillow with another bowl on top of it. Jared takes a seat and digs in. "Oh man," Jared groans, "this is amazing. Thanks, dude."

"So, how was your day?" Misha asks, equanimous.

Jared takes a sip of water. "You know. The same. You?" Jared's never discussed the details of his life with Misha. He probably could, if he wanted to, he doubts Misha would judge him or anything, he just. Never has before, and now it'd be weird if he suddenly laid a whole bunch of heavy shit on him. It's like, the fact that they both chose this particular building to live in already speaks volumes for where they're each coming from; Jared figures just their presence here is enough to cover the big stuff.

When he'd applied to live here, he hadn't known it was a clean and sober building; all he'd seen were the rainbows painted on the outside. It had amused him at the time, and then he'd met the landlord, Sam, and she'd seemed down to earth. She hadn't needed a credit report or anything which, frankly, made this building one of very few options.

Later he found out that the house next door was a halfway house for clean and sober women, and that this building worked in cooperation with it. The rainbows had been Sam's idea. She was one of those old-fashioned granola crunching, mullet-having lesbians. Jared had liked her immediately.

So yeah, he and Misha don't talk about it, but he kind of assumes that Misha already knows the gist.

"Quiet," Misha says. "I meditated, made dinner. Read a little bit."

"Oh yeah? What are you reading?"

"The Chicago Manual of Style," Misha says. "Fifteenth Edition."

Jared laughs. Of course that's what Misha's reading. "Right on. You get to the part where the semicolon slays the dragon?"

"That's my favorite part!"

They talk for another couple of hours. Jared tells Misha about the people he works with: how Imelda's always trying to set Katie up on dates, about Mike's crazy Halloween costumes (last year it was Olivia Newton John) and about Jensen's novel. He talks for way longer than he should about how awesome Jensen is, and about how one day Jared will get to tell people that he knew Jensen back in the day. In turn, Misha tells Jared about his boss and how it is to work on a dictionary. Misha's an etymologist, and Jared likes hearing about how they compile new words. Misha tells him stories from back when he was a student at Brown. Pranks pulled on professors and crazy course descriptions. They talk forever about nothing important, and after Jared's eaten all of the rice milk ice cream Misha gives him (cardamom; not too bad) he stands up, semi-reluctantly, to go.

"Thanks, man. I should--" He waves a hand at the door.

"Sure, any time." Misha smiles like he means it.

Jared smiles back. "One of these days I'm going to learn how to cook, and then dinner will be on me."

"Looking forward to it."

Jared leaves and Misha watches him go. He's a comfortable guy to be around; Jared's gotten used to him. At the door he turns back. "See ya," he says.

He wonders if he's supposed to be picking up a vibe from Misha, or if he's just imagining it. He'd never really thought of him that way before, but it's not like he's ugly. Not by a long shot. But he's so...spiritual. Or Zen, or something. Jared hadn't ever imagined him having like, any kind of sex drive at all.

He lets himself into his apartment and tries to picture Misha naked. Shakes his head. No, it's impossible. Then he tries to conjure up Misha making an O-face and laughs.

It's almost ten o'clock before he remembers his laundry and says, "Shit." He clomps down the stairs with a pocketful of quarters. In the basement his washer is empty. He blinks, looks around. He opens up both dryers and they're empty too.

Maybe he'd put his stuff in the other washer. He opens that up, and it's someone else's stuff. He looks around again and there's nothing. What the hell?

He retraces his steps up to the lobby and the front door is open. Lying on the mat is one of his socks--he recognizes it because it's got a gold and maroon stripe at the top. He bends down and picks it up. It's wet. Jared blinks at the open door, looks back toward the stairs. He takes a step outside and son of a bitch, there's a pair of his boxers on the sidewalk.

Someone stole his laundry. His fucking _wet_ laundry. "Shit," he says.

That was practically everything he owns, and it's all just gone. Just like that.

Jared races back up to his place and looks around, just in case he's hallucinating and never actually started a load, but no. There's nothing in his closet or on his floor. He's screwed.

What makes it worse is he doesn't get paid for almost another two weeks. He'd just barely made his rent out of the last check, and was already fated to be eating ramen noodles until the next check. He doesn't see any way around it; he's going to have to call his mom.

*

To say the conversation is awkward is like saying that summer in Texas is warm. Accurate, as far as it goes, but woefully underdescriptive.

All the way through it, he's acutely aware of the last time he called his mom for money. And just what he ended up spending that money on. And how he managed to get caught doing it. From the tightness in her voice, Jared can tell that she's remembering too.

In the end she says she'll send him a box of stuff, and takes down what he needs and his sizes. It's unbelievably humiliating to be twenty-one and have your mom fucking sending you underwear in the mail, but he figures that's fair. It's more than he deserves, anyway, and he'd be fucked if she hadn't come through.

After he hangs up he realizes that he doesn't have any towels. Shit. Well, he's not about to call her back. He'll figure out something on his own.

*

Jared's commute is backwards. He lives in the city and works way out in the suburbs. It's nice, he doesn't mind it, because the train ride and then the walk give him plenty of time to think. Sometimes he reads, if he's in the middle of a really good story, but usually he draws. This morning he's started on a sketch of Jensen driving an Aston Martin--from memory, which is hazy; he'll have to go to the library and look up what an Aston Martin looks like--but right now he's staring out the window, watching the brown hills undulate.

It's kind of funny, he thinks, that he hadn't even thought to wonder _why_ someone would want to steal his laundry until this morning. Why would someone want to steal clothes that were A) wet and B) made for a giant? It's incredibly unlikely that whoever stole them would be able to _use_ them. And well, while it's just plain mean to steal someone's clothes, it's also kind of funny, in a what-the-fuck kind of way.

Jared's not naive, he knows he doesn't live in the safest neighborhood, but he can't help but hope that whoever took his stuff needs it more than he does. He's got to assume that, or he'll go crazy.

Regardless, tonight he's going to talk to Sam about posting signs in the lobby, asking residents to make sure they close the door when they come in.

Jared glances down at his sketch and frowns. Jensen doesn't look right. He's too cartoony. Jared scrubs at him with his eraser until it's all a gray blob and starts again. Maybe Jensen will let him take a picture of him. But then, maybe he'd ask questions about why Jared wanted the picture, and that's just not something Jared's prepared to admit to, so he closes his eyes and imagines what Jensen looks like when he's telling Jared about his novel. That's the look he wants to capture; that's the look that, Jared thinks, expresses Jensen the best. The look of someone who's totally happy.

*

When he opens the mailroom door, Katie's laughing.

"Jared!" She says when he drops his bag next to the copier. "Hi, darling, how was your weekend?"

She's unusually chipper; Jared's immediately suspicious. "Uh, good. You? Feeling better?"

Katie glances over at Mike, who's intently examining the postage machine. "Yes, thanks for asking. I feel all rested and recuperated and ready to work."

Jared nods his head. Too early to try and get into it, whatever it is.

Mike turns around and the Human Resources manager comes striding in looking livid. "Jared, I'm glad you're here. Joyce can't get the coffee machine to work and Mr. Nguyen is meeting with clients in ten minutes. Do you think you could take a look?"

Jared bites back the grin that threatens to spread. "Sure thing, I'll take a look."

When she's gone Mike and Katie both laugh and point at him. Technically, he's in charge of all of the coffee machines in the office, part of his job description, weirdly, but Mr. Nguyen is insanely particular. One time he got so mad that the coffee wasn't brewed right, he threw the coffee pot across the kitchen.

It was one of those thermal kinds, so all it did was bounce, but after that, they decided to get him a pot of his very own. Aside from Mr. Nguyen and his assistant, Joyce, Jared was the only one in the entire building allowed to touch it, and even then, only to do minor repairs and to clean it.

Joyce is terrified of Mr. Nguyen and of making him coffee. This isn't the first time he's been called in to "fix" the machine.

Lawyers are strange creatures. Jared tries to imagine what would happen if he or Mike ever threw a coffee pot. He doubts they'd get one specially bought for them. Although, once he watched Katie throw an industrial-sized stapler at the copy machine. Thankfully, he wasn't standing near it at the time. There hadn't appeared to have been any repercussions from that incident, either.

In the kitchen, Jensen and Jeff are leaning against the counter. Jensen's stirring his coffee and Jeff's leaning over him, saying something Jared can't hear. Jared stops dead for a second. Jeff looks over at him and smiles, leans away from Jensen and says, "Good. So I'll expect that letter on my desk by noon." And then he's brushing past Jared with a soft, "Good morning, Jared."

Jensen smiles at him and Jared forgets what he came in here for. "Hey," he says.

"Morning," says Jensen. "How's it going?"

"Good," Jared says, and remembers about the coffee pot. He gets it set up and perking and turns to Jensen. "How was your weekend?"

Jensen taps the spoon against his mug and then licks it. Jared can admit that he's got a thing for Jensen's mouth. "Cool. Relaxing. I looked at apartments."

Jared blinks. "Whoa. New car, new place, what's next? New career?"

Jensen shrugs. "Maybe. Just, I've been thinking about it, and I think it's time to make some changes, you know?"

"Sure. I guess. What brought all this on?"

Jensen looks at him. "Well, the car, I mean, you've seen the piece of shit I drive." Jared laughs. "And the place. My mother-in-law said she was thinking about renovating it, turning it into a dance studio or something. And honestly, it's time."

Jared's stomach does a twisty roll. Shit, he's such an asshole. Jensen told him, when they first met, that he was a widower. At the time he hadn't been able to understand it. Jensen's so young, it's crazy to think that not only was he married, but that his wife had _died_. Jared's never been able to hang on to that piece of information. Sometimes, when he steps back and thinks about it, he can see the lines of sadness that mark Jensen. He can see it in the set of his shoulders, the quiet way he sidesteps the conversation when it turns to significant others.

And even though it's been two years, Jensen still lives in the guesthouse behind his mother-in-law's house. Well, more accurately, mother-in-law's mansion. Jared's been there. It's huge. "Shit, man, I'm sorry," he says.

Jensen swirls the coffee in his mug. "Thanks. It's." He takes a deep breath. "It's for the best, really. I can't keep holding on to that part of my life. Not if I want to move forward."

Jared nods, doesn't know what to say. "Well, if you get a new place, maybe you could find somewhere with an extra room, so that David could come visit you."

Jensen looks up at him, and his eyes are bright. He looks lit up from the inside like he so rarely does, and Jared would pay any amount of money to learn how to make Jensen look like that all the time. "Yeah, totally, that's part of the plan, actually. Hey listen, David's visiting next weekend. We're going to play some golf. You want to join us?"

"Hell yes!" Jared smiles big. "I've been waiting for a rematch. I've been practicing, and this time there's no way he's going to win."

Jensen laughs. "You think so, huh? I don't know, he's pretty good."

"This is true," Jared says, and reaches down a mug for himself. "But now that I know the difference between a wood and an iron, defeat is inevitable."

Jensen laughs again, and this time Jared feels a warmth spread through him, a good, clean feeling. "I'll let him know that a rematch is on. Saturday?"

"Saturday's perfect. I'll be there with bells on." He cringes at his own dorkiness and Jensen shakes his head, claps him on the back as he leaves.

"See you later," says Jensen.

Jared watches him leave, says fondly, "See ya."

Jensen's too busy for lunch or breaks the entire rest of the week, but Jared doesn't mind. He's going to spend all day Saturday with Jensen and his brother, and that's way more than any stolen ten minutes at the office.

On Thursday, after Jensen tells him he's having lunch with Jeff and can't hang out, he voluntarily tells Jared a little more about his novel. "I decided it doesn't take place during World War II," he says, "and instead of the cop, the woman goes to the grifter for help solving the murder of her husband."

"Oh yeah? How come you decided not to set it during World War II?"

"I don't know," Jensen says, "too much research. If I set it in the present, then there's way more I already know, you know? Modern day L.A. is way easier. Also, I decided that the cop thinks that the woman did it, and so the grifter and the woman are escaping the cop. It's going to be more of a chase thing."

Jared considers this. After a moment he says, "That's really cool. World War II's kind of played out, you know? And since you lived in L.A., you have way more knowledge of the town the way it is now. I approve of this change." He grins when Jensen rolls his eyes.

"Oh, I'm so glad I meet with your approval," he says, but his tone isn't as sarcastic as it could be. Jared counts it a win.

*

Friday is stressful. Last minute bullshit from lawyers who couldn't plan their way out of a paper bag. Jared's up to his neck in tediousness, pulling tiny little staples out of a thousand receipts. If lawyers think they're pissing off their opponents when they hand over boxes like this, then they're sadly mistaken. It's like yelling at the waiter because the food is cooked wrong, a tragedy of the modern service economy. Jared thinks about pissing in all their soups and laughs.

Tom's been stalking the mailroom all week and he's here now, sitting in Katie's chair, glaring daggers at Mike's back. Mike is poring through an office supply catalog. Half the stuff he orders he takes home for himself. Jared wonders if Mike sells it all on the black market. Or maybe he's got some kind of pencil fetish. The image of Mike rolling around on a bed of pencils makes him laugh, and then feel a little nauseous. No one needs to see that.

"What the hell's got you so giggly?" Mike asks, eyes never leaving the catalog. Tom's eyes never leave Mike.

"Nothing," Jared says, and then, "Tom, dude, can I help you with something?"

Tom barely looks at him. "No thanks. I'm good."

Jared shrugs and returns to pulling out staples by the dozen. Katie comes in with the mail cart and stops when she takes in the scene. Her smile turns, well, evil is a good word for it. She parks the cart next to Tom and falls dramatically into his lap. "Tommy!" she says.

Tom grunts. Mike stands up and wipes his hands on his slacks. Clearly something is about to happen. Jared stops pulling out staples and sits down. He wishes he had some popcorn.

"Don't be like that, sweetie," Katie says. "I'm willing to share."

Tom's eyes get big and Mike cuts in, "Katie, I think there's a package that needs to go to FedEx, why don't you--"

Katie makes a raspberry noise and snuggles closer in Tom's lap. "I think it's high time you boys and I had a conversation." She leans back and winks at Jared. "Jared, be a dear and take the box to FedEx?"

All three of them are looking at Jared. Shit. He sighs and gets up. "Fine, I'll go, but you know I'm going to find out what happened from one of you."

Mike waves him off with the look of a man facing a firing squad. "Take an extra fifteen while you're down there."

Jared grabs the box and his coat. On the way to the elevators he stops by Jensen's desk, but Jensen's not there and Jeff's door is closed. Figures.

He drops off the package in the building lobby and can't think of anything else to do, so he checks his voicemail. One call is from Sarah, who lets him know that Kate's doing better. She'd come home and gotten a new sponsor, started doing the steps over again. Jared's glad. He saves the message and figures he'll call Sarah back later. He hasn't been to a meeting all week and there's an uncomfortable feeling in his gut, not exactly like he's been avoiding them, but. Well, yeah, probably like he's been avoiding them.

He loves Sarah and Kate and the other people he's met in the rooms, but ever since he's gotten his court-card signed off and isn't required by the state to go to meetings anymore, he's felt himself drifting away from them. It's kind of a mess and he doesn't have the energy to think it through, so he shoves the guilt aside and listens to his other message.

It's from David, and he's really excited about golfing: "Hi Jared!" he says. "It's David, Jensen's brother. He told me we're golfing with you on Saturday. I can't wait to see you. Have you been watching wrestling? Stone Cold Steve Austin's winning. I'll see you on Saturday. Good bye."

Jared smiles. David's awesome. He loves golf and wrestling and baseball. Jared's not the biggest fan of any of those things, but listening to David talk about them makes him want to learn more. The last time they'd hung out, David had explained who every single guy was in the WWE. Jared had remembered maybe one quarter of it, but afterwards he'd pulled up the website on Mike's computer and watched clips. He could see the appeal.

*

By the time they get to the eighth hole Jared's dripping with sweat. It's not that golf's hard, per se, but standing around in the hot sun is kind of brutal. They'd rented a cart because David loves driving them, and the meager shade it provides is a blessing.

"Hey," Jensen says, nudging his arm, "there's a hot dog stand up on the ninth. David usually gets one. You care if we take a break?"

"Yeah, a break sounds awesome. I could use some water."

They get set up with hot dogs and beverages, and David's sitting in the cart. Jensen's leaning against it. Jared smiles as he watches them talk. Jensen's almost a completely different person with David, relaxed and laughing, trading jokes and just kind of mellow. He listens to David tell him about wrestling and what kind of game the As are playing this season, about his job at the coffee shop and the pictures he makes at his art classes. Jared watches Jensen as he listens, takes in the lines of his shoulders, the way light catches on his face as he tips it toward the sun. He wishes he could draw Jensen this way.

Jensen's the real player here. Neither David nor Jared would have gotten very far off of the first hole without his guidance. He wonders if David loves golf because Jensen does. "So, when did you guys first start playing?" he asks them both.

Jensen looks up from where he's helping David line up his swing. He looks back at David, who shrugs and takes his shot.

"Jensen's always been playing," David says. "For a long time."

Jensen nods in agreement. "Yeah, I guess since we were little, huh, buddy? When we moved to Marin from L.A., our place was really close to a course, so David and I used to walk over, putt on the range after school."

"Mom still goes there," David says.

It's Jared's turn so he stands up, looks at his bag of clubs and shrugs, pulls one out at random. They're so not playing to keep score, and Jared's been testing each club, one at a time. Figures he could use the practice.

When he strides up to the tee, Jensen's laughing at him and David joins in. "What?" he says.

Jensen shakes his head, grabs a different club out of the bag and hands it to him. "Here, use this one."

Jared looks at it, and can't really tell the difference, but he takes it anyway. He lines up to take the shot and Jensen coughs, makes a half-completed gesture like he's trying to reel it in. Jared straightens up and says, "You got some tips for my swing, Tiger?"

Jensen grins. "Actually, yeah, if you-- Do you mind?" He comes around to Jared's side and mimics Jared's stance. "You've got your feet spread apart like this, right? But," he moves his feet closer together. "You'd have better range if you did like this. Here," he says, and comes to stand behind Jared. He puts his hands lightly on Jared's hips and pushes. Jared tries valiantly not to react, and lets Jensen guide him. "And then your swing, you're overcorrecting on your follow-through." Now he's got his hands on Jared's shoulders, pulling him back and Jared can feel the alignment. He can also feel ghost trails of electricity everywhere Jensen's hands have been. "Now try."

Jared swings and connects and the ball goes flying.

"Awesome!" he says, and Jensen grins at him when he puts his hand up for a high five. David comes over and high fives him too.

"Good job!" David says.

By the eighteenth hole, if they'd been keeping score, Jared figures he'd have like, a three hundred or so. But none of that matters. It's been an awesome day.

*

On the way back to the car David asks if Jared can come with to take David home. Jensen looks a question and says, "Oh, I don't know, Jared probably doesn't want to drive all the way out there." In an aside to Jared as David climbs in, he says, "You really don't have to. It's been a long day."

Jared shakes his head. "I'd love to, that is, if you don't mind."

Jensen smiles a small smile. "No, it'd be nice to have company on the way back."

"Cool," Jared says, and gets in.

"Jensen, can we stop at Target on the way home? I need to get some stuff," David says.

"Sure," says Jensen, and then, "You make a list?"

"Yeah, I got it here in my bag." David digs through his backpack and holds up a sheet of paper.

"Excellent. Did you make a budget, too?"

David gets excited. "Yeah, I did! Robin helped me do it yesterday at life skills class."

"Very cool," says Jensen, and they take the coast road. Jared watches the water as they drive, listening to a mixed tape Jensen made for David. It's got Justin Timberlake and they all sing along at the top of their lungs, all the way to Target.

Inside, David grabs a basket and Jared says, "Oh man, I forgot, I need to get some towels. You guys gonna stay in this section?"

Jensen looks up from David's list. "Yeah, we'll be here."

"Cool, I'll be right back." Jared runs to the back of the store and grabs two of the cheapest towels they have, wincing even still at the price tag.

Jogging back over to the toiletries department, he slows down when he notices two teenaged girls pointing and whispering at David and Jensen. David's holding Jensen's hand and pointing at body wash. Jared feels a flare of anger and strides over, looming as big as he can. He says, "You got a problem?" And the two girls quail. He gets a stab of regret--he forgets sometimes how intimidating he can look--but it doesn't quench the fury he feels. They back off and Jared walks up to David, claps him on the shoulder.

"Hi, Jared," David says, happy to see him, and like that, the anger washes away. It's not immediately apparent that David has a developmental disability, not from far away, and although Jared's never given it much thought, it must look strange to outsiders. His casual affection toward his brother and Jensen's instinctive protection of David is something Jared's used to.

But Jensen's told him, in vague terms, about the fights he'd gotten into in school with kids who'd picked on David and other kids in his class. He'd been suspended for fighting more than once. He'd said that the only thing that ever literally made him see red was people picking on his brother. Jared gets that.

"Hey," Jared says. "Picking out some soap?"

"It's between Spongebob Squarepants and Old Spice," says Jensen.

"Which one do you like?" David asks, holding up the Old Spice for Jared to sniff.

"That's a hard one. Honestly? I'd go with Spongebob. Old Spice smells kinda..." Jared waves a hand. "Heavy, you know?"

David nods, decided. He drops the Spongebob bottle into his cart and they finish shopping.

*

"Doing some redecorating?" Jensen asks when they get back to the car.

"Hm? The towels? Oh man, I didn't tell you!" Jared laughs. "Last week my laundry got stolen. Like, all of it. Right out of the washer. Crazy right?"

"Whoa, seriously? Who steals wet laundry?"

"That was my question. So I needed some towels."

Jensen nods. "Well, listen, if you need anything else, you know I'm getting ready to move, and I've been getting rid of stuff. I've got way too many towels and sheets and stuff. Help yourself."

Jared blinks against an instant image of Jensen in a towel. He shakes it off. "Yeah? Thanks, man, that's nice of you."

When they pull into Jensen's folks' street David visibly deflates. When they park on the driveway he's practically moping. Jensen turns around in his seat. "Okay, big guy, we're here."

"I don't want to go," David says.

The energy in the car drops. "I know you don't," Jensen says, quiet. "We had a good day, huh? But tomorrow you're gonna see Robin, and you wanna tell her all about how you went to Target and picked out your stuff all by yourself, right?"

David brightens a little bit. "Yeah."

"Yeah. Come on, I'll help you bring your stuff inside."

They climb out and Jared hangs back, unsure if he should intrude.

"You coming?" Jensen asks, and David looks expectant.

"Okay," he says.

Jensen's mom is nice. Their house is really nice, tucked into some trees, with big picture windows overlooking green hills. Jared introduces himself and answers questions about golfing and David; he says that yes, he learned all about wrestling and David's art class. He refuses a glass of iced tea and accepts a picture David brings out from his room. It's a picture of David and Jensen on a golf course. It's in crayon. It's really awesome.

"Thanks, David. This is really awesome. Are you sure I can have this?"

David nods. "Yeah. Next time I'll make one of you and me and Jensen."

"That'd be really cool. I'm going to hang this up in my house."

Jared hangs back while Jensen fills in his mom about the day's events and gives David a hug goodbye.

"I'll see you," David says.

"Catch you later," says Jared.

The drive back is long; they're stuck in Saturday night traffic. Jared doesn't mind.

"You make this drive every Saturday?" Jared asks.

Jensen shrugs. "Not every Saturday. Sometimes I just go up and spend the day in Marin. Once in a while we hang out at my place and my mom picks him up."

"I see now why you need a better car."

Jensen laughs. "You knocking my piece of shit car?"

"No way! I don't even have a piece of shit car. I have to envy yours."

"You know," Jensen says thoughtfully, "any time you need a ride or anything..."

Jared looks over, watches Jensen's profile. "Thanks," he says softly.

Jared leans back in his seat. He's worn out, but in a good way. It was a really fun day. "So," he says, after a while. "David lives with your mom?"

"Yeah." Jensen nods, brow furrowing. "For now. She's looking into placing him in some kind of supported living situation, though."

Jared shifts so he can look directly at Jensen. "Oh yeah? You don't seem too happy about that."

"I--" Jensen shifts gears and shrugs. "I don't know. Honestly? I've been looking into resources around here, and... All the places I've looked at just don't seem like enough, you know? Like, David's so independent, and I don't think the places I've seen would be good for him."

"Yeah? What are the choices?" Jared has no idea. He's never even thought once about how adults with developmental disabilities live.

"Well, I mean, there's residential care places, that have like, dorms. Then there's independent living programs, where David could live in an apartment with a roommate who gets paid to supervise him, I don't." Jensen sighs, shifts into third. "I don't know. My mom and I have been debating what's the best option for years. David's been doing this life skills program for a while, and he's got some really good community support right now. He's got a job and he knows how to cook for himself and all that."

Jared nods, eyes on the traffic going in the other direction. "Yeah? Shit, that's more than I can do."

Jensen looks him askance.

"I'm serious. My neighbor feeds me and I get my laundry stolen."

The laugh bubbles out of Jensen like he can't help himself. "Yeah, you're kind of pathetic. I've been wondering why you were wearing the same clothes three times a week. Figured it was just your bohemian anti-establishment protest thing."

Jared can't repress a smile. "What? You noticed what I was wearing?"

"Kind of hard not to, what with the big pink stripes every Monday, Wednesday and Friday."

They both laugh. Jared can feel his face burning in a blush.

"So, what does your mom want David to do?"

"She wants him to go into the residential living program, the kind with the dorms and round the clock care. She's really overprotective. I don't think he'd thrive in that environment. And I mean, it's not like he takes meds, or anything that requires an on-staff nurse, you know?"

"How come she doesn't want him to live at home?" Jared asks quietly. It feels like it isn't something he should ask.

"Well, because she's getting older. And if he doesn't have some alternate kind of support now, she's afraid that when she dies, he won't know how to fend for himself."

Jared absorbs that. God, the things Jensen has to deal with. He's so much stronger than Jared ever knew. He sits in silence, having no idea what to say.

Later, Jensen says, "In a perfect world, I'd set David up with me. I could get paid to be his roommate. I think he's totally capable of being independent, and if he was with me, then I wouldn't have to worry about who he was living with, you know?"

"That sounds like a good plan," Jared says. "That can't happen?"

Jensen makes a noise like he's frustrated. "My mom doesn't like it. She says she doesn't want me to be 'saddled' with him my whole life. She wants me to be free to do whatever I want to do. I don't know," he says. "It's not off the table yet. There are still a couple of years before David's ready to go anywhere."

"What do you think? Do you think you'd be 'saddled' with David if he lived with you?"

"No, I don't. I've been on my own for a couple of years now, and." Jensen clears his throat. "Danni and I, we always thought we'd bring David over once we got settled. And I still think it's a good idea."

Danni. That was his wife. Jared doesn't know how she died. They take the interchange and are heading into Jared's neighborhood.

Jensen says, "Jeff thinks my mom's right. He thinks David should go into a facility."

That's a surprise. "You've talked to Jeff about it?"

Jensen looks uncomfortable. He says, "Yeah, a little bit. He's a good guy, you know? He's got a lot of insight."

Jared's stunned. He can't imagine talking to Jeff about the weather, let alone his life plans. But he guesses it'd be different for Jensen, who works with him a lot more closely. "Huh," he says, and Jensen arches an eyebrow at him. "I mean, I'm sure Jeff's got insight. But I don't know, I've seen the way you and David interact. I think it'd be awesome if you could do the roommate thing with him."

Jensen pulls up in front of Jared's building and puts the car in park. "Yeah?"

Jared twists to face him. The streetlights make patterns of shadow and light inside the car. He can't see Jensen's eyes. "Yeah. I do. And I think it'd make you both happy."

Jensen nods, lips pressed together.

"What does David want to do?"

Jensen huffs a laugh. "He wants to live alone like me. Failing that, he'd like to live with me. He's said it before, said that we could be brothers again like old times."

Jared nods at the windshield. "Do you think your mom will take what he wants into consideration?"

"...Yeah. Probably eventually. It's hard for her, I think, to stop seeing him as a kid, you know?"

"I bet. I can imagine how protective I'd feel if he was my son." Jared thinks about the girls at Target, and tries to picture living with that level of anger-fear-protectiveness twenty-four-seven.

They're both silent for a while, until Jared's stomach rumbles and that breaks the contemplative mood. Jensen laughs. "I should let you go eat."

It's way past dinnertime, and all Jared's had today was hot dogs, hours ago. "Yeah, I could eat a horse." He looks across the street at the Korean place. It's still open. "Hey, you got plans for dinner? That place across the street's pretty good."

Jensen leans back in his seat, looks over. "Yeah? I don't know if I've ever eaten Korean food. Sure, if you can recommend something."

Jared's smile threatens to take over his face, he can feel it. The exhaustion he'd felt earlier sloughs off and he gets a second wind. "Dude, I can recommend lots of stuff."

*

Jared's working on his bibimbap and Jensen's picking at the little cups full of various spicy and pickled vegetables. "You're right, this is really good," Jensen says.

Jared smiles and swallows his mouthful. "Glad you like it."

"So," Jensen says, taking a sip of water. "I feel like we spent all day talking about my stuff. What about you?"

Jared pokes at his egg and watches it ooze over the rice. "What about me?"

"What's going on in your life? You seeing anybody?"

A flush rises in Jared's face, and he stammers. "Huh? No, uh, not-- no." It's that thing again: that awkwardness where he doesn't want to lie, but feels like it's kind of too late in the game to tell Jensen that he's gay. It's not that he's hiding it, exactly, it's just. Well, in this particular case, maybe he is.

Jared hasn't come out to very many people, but the few times he's done it haven't been what he'd term successes. He'd told a straight friend once back in high school, and the guy had avoided him like the plague afterwards. Thankfully, he hadn't told anyone else, which Jared gives him credit for, but. It had stung. After that, any naive belief he'd had about revealing his 'true' self to straight people had gone right out the window. The way he figures it, if he's not fucking someone, they don't need to know.

Of course, the trouble is, Jared really would like to fuck Jensen. No, not fuck. Sleep with. Make love to, maybe even. If that wasn't a terribly corny and uncomfortable phrase.

And he's afraid to open that door with Jensen. Afraid that if he tells Jensen about his orientation, Jensen will back away. Jared's perfectly content to have this, Jensen's friendship. He knows that's all he'll ever get, and he can't risk losing it. Even a sliver of Jensen's life is better than nothing at all.

He clears his throat. "No, I'm not really looking right now, you know?" Jensen nods, picking up some pickled ginger in his chopsticks. "What about you," Jared says, a knot in his throat. "You seeing anyone?"

Jensen licks his lips. He shakes his head in vague negation. "Kind of, maybe. Nothing serious at the moment, but who knows. It's...early. Too early to say." He's got a private smile for his dinner plate and Jared wants to cry.

"Oh yeah?" he says faintly. "Right on. You deserve to be happy. I hope it works out for you."

Jensen looks up, expression serious. "Thanks. You, too. You deserve to be happy, Jared."

Jared nods with a tight smile. He changes the subject and the rest of dinner's a blur.

*

Jared's printing out an application for community college on Mike's computer. The door opens but Jared doesn't turn around; it's his lunch break, he doesn't have to pretend to be civil.

"Hey," Jensen says, and Jared's stomach swoops like it always does when he hears Jensen's voice. He turns around.

"Hey," Jared says, getting up and going over to the doorway. Jensen has a stack of stuff in his hands. "You can put that on the copier."

Jensen does, dusting off his hands. "Sorry to do this to you, but Jeff's got a major case in the morning. Is there any way you could get a copy of all of this by tonight?"

Jared looks it over. It's a lot, but if no one else comes in, he can definitely do it. "Sure," he says. "What time do you need it by?"

"Well, I'm leaving early for a dentist appointment. Can you get it to Jeff by six?"

Jared scratches his head. "Yeah, for sure. I'll take it to him when it's done."

"Thanks," says Jensen. "What's that, college application?"

Jared looks down at his other hand, clutching his printouts. "Oh, yeah. Nothing exciting, just junior college. Thought I'd look into it."

"Awesome. What do you want to study?" Jensen looks extra hot today: lavender button down shirt, perfectly fitted; pale green and lavender tie; charcoal slacks. Jared wants to touch him, see if his chest is as taut as it looks.

"Um," Jared says, and clears his throat. "I haven't gotten that far, actually." He laughs. "I only just got my G.E.D. so...figured I'd start with general ed stuff, see what I liked."

"That's great. You thinking of doing night classes, or...you're not going to quit, are you?" Jensen's eyebrows quirk up like he doesn't like the thought of Jared quitting. Jared's heart thumps a staccato beat.

"I haven't even thought about that yet, I was just bored, so I got on the computer," he says, shrugging.

Jensen smirks at him. "Sure. You got on Mike's computer and looked up college. That's probably the first time it hasn't been used for porn."

Jared laughs, startled. He didn't think anyone else knew about Mike's shenanigans. "Yeah," he says. "Probably right."

"So, okay, I've got to run. If you have any questions about the job, you can ask Jeff, he put it together. I'll see you later."

"Cool, alright. See ya," Jared says. He watches Jensen leave with a wistful ache. Ever since dinner at the Korean place, he's worked hard at putting Jensen back into the work box. He's been careful not to loiter at Jensen's desk, or to ask him to the juice place for breaks more than once a week.

It doesn't seem like Jensen has noticed. Which makes it suck even more. Jared's sitting over here, pining away at the copy machine, while a few yards away, Jensen's blithely going on about his daily business. It sucks, but staying away from him is the right thing to do. Jensen's got a lot on his plate already, and if he's in some new relationship, Jared's sure that Jensen's got no spare time to hang out with the dumb mailroom kid.

He finally gets the copy job done at six-thirty, and walks it over to Jeff's door. It's closed, but the light's on. He knocks.

"Come in," calls Jeff's voice, muffled.

Jared opens the door. He's apprehensive. Jeff's never been mean to Jared, but he's heard enough rumors about the guy's temper to feel like caution is the best approach. He sets the box of copies down on a chair. "Hi, um, Jensen told me to bring these in to you when they were done."

Jeff leans back in his chair. His suit coat is draped carelessly across the back of it and Jared thinks, dumbly, that it's getting wrinkled. Jeff's sleeves are rolled up, his tie loose at his neck. He's got some pretty thick stubble going on, and if Jared hadn't seen him this morning, clean-shaven, he would have thought Jeff was aiming for a beard.

It would take a week for Jared to grow that much stubble.

"Jensen said you'd get it done. He also said you'd have it done by six."

A wash of adrenaline floods Jared's gut. "Sorry," he says. "A couple of other things came in this afternoon."

Jeff waves off his apology. "S'ok, I'm not even ready to look at it yet." Jeff's staring at him like he's a puzzle. Jared backs up toward the door.

"Well, okay, if that's all you need--"

"You spend a lot of time with Jensen, don't you?" Jeff asks, apropos of nothing at all. Jared blinks.

"Um. I guess so. Not a lot, really. I've hung out with him a few times. Him and his brother," Jared says, unsure of what Jeff wants the answer to be.

Jeff nods. He still looks speculative. "David's a good kid. So's Jensen."

Jared doesn't know what to say, so he nods. He wouldn't call either one of them _kids_. Jensen's twenty-five and David's nineteen. But he guesses that when you're as old as Jeff, everybody looks like a kid. "You've met David?"

"Yeah, once. He's nice."

"Yeah, he's awesome. So's Jensen."

"Yeah?" Jeff's look twists. It's sly, almost. "You think so?"

"Sure. He's a hard worker, he's nice, he's a great brother and a good friend. Don't you think so?"

Jeff leans back in his chair and now Jared can't read his expression at all. "I do. Jensen's got a good head on his shoulders. He just needs a push in the right direction."

Jared's baffled. He's got no idea what 'the right direction' means, and he doesn't want to know what Jeff's interpretation of that would be, so he just nods and says, "Okay. Well, if you don't need anything else."

"Yeah, thanks. Have a good night, Jared."

Jared makes sure to close the door when he leaves. Lawyers are weird.

When he gets home that night, there's a note on his door from Sam. His underwear has arrived. Finally.

*

In the end, Jensen decides to move into a two-bedroom apartment down the street from Jared. He's surprised, but when Jensen asks if Jared will help him move, Jared says yes enthusiastically.

They're unloading the first round when Jared asks, "What made you decide on this neighborhood?"

Jensen sets down a box in the living room and looks around the space. "What, you don't like it?"

"No, I do, I live here, too, it's just. Well." He doesn't know how to say it without sounding condescending. "I mean, it's not the safest area, you know? And there's David."

Jensen looks amused. "Jared, I work in the suburbs, but that doesn't mean I want to live there. This place is in walking distance to coffee shops and bookstores, the train, and bus lines. If David does come to stay, he wouldn't be dependent on me for transportation, which he definitely would if I'd moved closer to work. Besides, there are programs in the city, and I spoke to a couple of them, they're open to enrolling him, so he'd have a lot of resources. Also, this building is awesome."

Jared has to agree. Jensen's new place is closer to the good stuff than Jared's is, and it's tucked into one of his favorite streets, tree-lined and shady, with lots of kids playing in the front yards. The building itself is gorgeous. Jared's not an expert, but he'd guess that the building was built in the early twentieth century. Inside, it's all original wood paneling and carved marble, with a working fireplace and stained glass light fixtures. Jared ventures further inside, and while the bedrooms have been renovated with carpet--and ugh, mirrored closet doors. Who thinks that's a good idea?--the bathroom still has a claw-foot tub. It's really a cool place.

"Yeah, no, this is definitely the coolest apartment I've ever seen. Way better than mine." Jared's apartment is a studio overlooking the train. The back half of the yard is the commuter parking lot. It's an old building, too, but it's been butchered up into tiny little micro-apartments, with weirdly long and thin hallways. His closet is a triangle, shaved off of one corner. "I guess I didn't think about the benefits of the location for David. Figured the suburbs would be better."

Jensen looks at him with a smirk. "Jared, the suburbs are _never_ better." Jared agrees with a grin of his own.

It takes them two trips to get everything, and then Jensen follows Jared to return the U-Haul. They get back to Jensen's place and flop down on the floor.

"You want something to drink, water?"

"Yeah," Jared croaks. "Water would be awesome, thanks." He watches Jensen as he moves around the place; he looks good--jeans and a t-shirt, sun-warmed and a little sweaty. He looks good in office-wear, too, but Jared's pretty sure this is how he likes Jensen best: casual and work-rumpled, not tense with deadlines. He wants to run his fingers through Jensen's hair, down his neck, feel the heat of his skin under his hands.

Jensen comes back with two cups. Jared takes a sip and says, "Water for you, too? Figured you'd have a beer or something."

"Nah," Jensen says. "After hard work in the hot sun, a beer sounds about as refreshing as a bowl of soup."

Jared laughs.

"You don't drink, do you?" Jensen asks.

Jared swallows, shakes his head. "No, uh." He feels a swell of panic. It's been weeks since he's gone to a meeting. Sarah told him he was white knuckling it. Jared disagrees. The community's nice and all, but. It makes him feel even more isolated. Even more of a freak. And besides, what happened was bad, sure, but he was just a kid. He's not sure if one fuck-up, however major, means that he's doomed for life. "I'm clean and sober."

"Right on," Jensen says, taking a sip of his water. "How long?"

Jared's not used to people knowing how it works. "Almost a year and half," he says, taking another cool swig. He can feel sweat trickling down his neck.

"Good for you. Danni, my wife, she was in the program for a while." Jensen sets his cup down and leans back on his hands, legs spreading out in front of him on the floor.

Jared's mouth is dry. He has a sinking feeling that he's about to hear some horrendous shit. "Yeah?"

"She was..." Jensen shakes his head at the floor. "Troubled. She had a lot to deal with, and." He breathes deep and Jared has an urge to squeeze Jensen's hand. He inches closer. "In the end, no one could help her." It's not a whisper, but it's close.

Jared scoots over and squeezes Jensen's shoulder. "I'm sorry," is all he says.

Jensen nods tightly. "Yeah, me too." He lets out a breath. "It was hard. Really fucking hard to work through. We were so young, and I didn't get it, you know? I felt like, if I'd just understood better, I could have-- Ah, you don't want to hear this. I don't want to hear it." Jensen shakes himself and smiles.

Jared says, "If you want to tell me, I want to hear it."

"What about you? What brought you to the program?"

Jared sits back. It hardly seems fair to hold out against what Jensen's just said. But saying it out loud makes him feel...vulnerable. Like he's going to be judged. And frankly, he feels guilty for avoiding it, like he should be judged, and then shunned by any and all normal, healthy people. "Uh."

"I mean, I don't want to pry," Jensen says. "You don't have to."

"No, it's cool, I mean. I don't mind." Jared thinks about the way he usually tells this story, and while there's plenty of stuff he could say to explain his choices, the fact of the matter is, no one forced him to make those choices. All of the collateral bullshit is just so much whining about how unfair the world is, and if there's anyone who already gets that, it's Jensen. So he keeps it brief: "I was arrested. Got caught taking a nap in my car. They had me on possession." He doesn't go into details, but he figures what he says is enough. "And under the influence." He doesn't say that he was living in his car, or that he'd run away from home. Or that actually, he'd been making a pretty decent living as a dealer, and that he had a lucky combination of a tough public defender and a kind judge, who took his youth into consideration and knocked it down from Intent to Sell to only Possession. "Spent a week in county, then probation for three years."

After a minute, Jensen says, "Man. That's tough. Are you okay now? Still going to meetings?"

"I'm-- Yeah, I'm okay." Jared picks at a hole in his jeans. "Half way through probation. It's not so bad." He looks over and Jensen looks as uncomfortable as Jared feels. Jared knocks his knee against Jensen's. "Hey, so when the hell are you going to get a couch?"

Jensen laughs. "I know, huh? Big fancy place and nothing to put in it."

Jared groans and lies down flat. "I wouldn't say _nothing_."

"What are you doing after this? You have time for a pizza?"

Jared sits up. "A pizza sounds awesome, but, um." He makes a split-second decision, and says, "I'm supposed to go see a friend's band play. I don't know if-- You're more than welcome to come with. They're nice people. I mean, if you're not busy."

Jensen stands up and reaches in his pocket, pulls out his cell. He nods. "Yeah, I'd like that. Jeff's always telling me I need to go out more."

Jared is momentarily thrown by the reference to Jeff. What is he, like some kind of father figure? He shrugs it off and smiles. "Awesome."

"Pizza first, though, huh?" Jensen's already dialing.

"Hell yes."

They eat on the floor with paper towels for plates. Jensen asks him about school and Jared tells him he's signed up to take the placement tests. He says, "Yeah, and I get to take two electives the first semester. I'm thinking Introduction to Drawing and maybe Cultural Anthropology."

"Oh yeah?" Jensen wipes his mouth. "You like to draw?"

Jared takes another bite, forcing down a blush. "I mean," he says, then waits until he's finished chewing. "Yeah, I like to, but I've never really learned how, so."

"That's pretty cool. So, are you thinking of quitting and going full-time, or just taking night classes?"

Jared pauses. He's looked into financial aid options, and honestly, it'd be really cool to be able to go during the day like a normal student, but with classes starting so soon, he doubts he'd be able to file all the necessary paperwork in time. Also, maybe, just a little bit, he doesn't want to think about what it'd be like not seeing Jensen everyday. "Maybe eventually I'd be able to go full-time, but for now I'm just going to do it after work. They've actually got a pretty comprehensive program for adult learners." He laughs. "That's what they call it when you're too old to be going to school, but do it anyway."

Jensen shakes his head. "You're never too old for school, Jay."

Jared rocks back, a Christmas tree lighting up with puppies dancing around it in his heart. He's never had a nickname before. He likes it. "What about you? You ever think about going back?"

"Ah, nah, not really. I'm kind of settled now, you know? Besides, I have no idea what I'd do instead of this." Jensen snags another slice and chews thoughtfully. "I guess I'm used to it."

"How did you end up being a legal assistant, anyway?"

Jensen smirks. "You mean a secretary?" He shrugs. "Danni was going to school, and our plan was that she'd go first, she was going to be a nurse. Then she'd support me while I went. Then when I got the job at the firm, we-- Danni needed my health insurance to get into rehab, so. And then I stayed. It was easy, good hours, decent pay. And Jeff's a good boss. I don't mind the work, and I don't know what else I'd be doing."

"Does it," Jared starts, stops. Tries again. "Does it hurt, to talk about Danni?"

Jensen nods slowly. "It'll always kind of...ache? I guess. But. I've talked about it a lot, and I've had a really supportive group of people, other people, like her mom, my mom, David. Talked to a shrink for a while. It helped. I don't know, I guess it's like, I've moved beyond the pain of it, and now I can just remember the good parts, you know?"

They sit, quietly eating for a long time. Jared tries to imagine what Jensen was like back then. How young he must have been. What it would have been like to know Danni. In a lot of ways, he feels like he already does. At least, he can see the marks she's left behind.

"So," Jensen says, standing up. "I've been working on the story."

Jared helps him clean up, and they wrap all the mess up into the pizza box. "Oh yeah? What's going on in it?"

"You're gonna laugh at me."

Jared does laugh at that. "What? No I won't. Come on man, I'm in it for the long haul. Don't leave me hanging."

"All right, so I decided last time that it doesn't take place during World War II, right?"

"Uh huh."

"And so now there's no murder and no wrongfully accused woman. Now it's just the grifter and the cop, and the cop is obsessed with catching the grifter. Like, this guy's the one that got away. There's chase scenes and nick of time getaways and all kinds of badass stunts."

Jared nods. "Yeah? That sounds cool. Why is the cop obsessed with the grifter?"

Jensen's leaning against the kitchen counter, and he crosses his arms. "Well, I guess it's because he keeps showing the cop up. Like, maybe the cop's angling for a promotion, and the captain's like, 'catch that dude and we'll talk,' but the guy's too good. Every time the cop gets there, he's gone already."

"And this grifter, what's he do, exactly? Like, he doesn't kill people, does he?"

"Oh, no way. Definitely not. More like, robs banks, but in a really clever way."

"Well, good," Jared says, and then, "because by the description, I'm kind of rooting for the grifter."

Jensen laughs. "Yeah. I don't know what the hell I'm doing. I should just give up."

"What? No way." Jared takes a step closer to him. "You definitely shouldn't give up. But, well. It sounds like you don't really want to write this particular story. Am I right?"

Jensen looks pensive for a moment. "You know what? Yeah," he says, and then he laughs. "I really don't. Jesus, I can't believe that thought hadn't occurred to me before, but yeah." He wipes a hand over his forehead.

"Well," Jared says, "What do you want to write about?"

"I'll let you know," he says.

*

It's Sarah and Kate's gig again, this time in a real venue, and aside from the highly visible consumption of alcohol, mercifully drug-free. They're standing off to the side of the stage, waiting for the show to start.

Jared leans in to be heard over the crowd. "You know, you can get a beer, dude."

Jensen looks up, tilts his water bottle in Jared's direction. "I know I can," he says. "I'm just not much of a drinker."

Jared nods. "Kay."

"I never was," Jensen says, leaning into his shoulder. "It's not, you know, about you or Danni or anything, just." He shrugs. "Not into it. I like knowing what's going on around me."

"Kay," Jared says again, and smiles. Finally Sarah's band files on stage and a table opens up. They grab it. "You're going to like them, I think. They've got a really unique sound."

"I'm sure I will." After that there's no room for talking, so they just listen to the music. Jensen sticks close to Jared's side, and Jared tries not to fidget with the proximity. He reviews the events and conversations they've had so far today, picking each thing he's said apart and analyzing it.

He cringes at a couple of things, like how he handled bringing Danni up, the thing he said about Jensen's novel—could he be more of a jerkoff?—and damn, the beer thing. He'd sounded like some kind of pusher. Jensen's a grownup, and can totally make his own decisions. He'd meant that he didn't want Jensen to feel uncomfortable around him; he should have just said so. Jensen's probably just waiting for this to be over so he can leave politely.

In between songs a smattering of applause starts up, and they both join in. Jensen looks at him with a smile, leans in and says, "Dude, they rock. You know this band?"

Jared smiles, surprised. "Yeah, you want to meet them after? They're really nice."

"Sure."

After that, Jared relaxes. Maybe he hasn't fucked up this whole thing after all.

*

The girls finish up and after breaking down their gear they come over to Jared and Jensen's table. Jared stands to hug first Kate and then Sarah, turning to Jensen, who stands up, too, and holds out his hand. "Sarah, this is my friend Jensen. Jensen, Sarah, and this is Kate."

They shake hands and Kate says, "Good to meet you, I've heard a lot about you."

Jared's eyes go round in mortification. Jensen looks at him and laughs. "Yeah? Nothing good, I hope."

Sarah wraps an arm around Kate's waist, pulling her in. "Jared's awesome, isn't he? He's one of the good guys."

"He definitely is," Jensen says, and Jared can feel the blush sweeping all the way to his toes. "You guys rocked. Do you have anything recorded?"

Thankfully, after that they get on to safer topics, like musical influences and various guitars. Jared leans back in his chair and watches his friends make friends with each other. It's weird, but cool. He's never had two spheres mesh before. He thinks he kind of likes it. Also, Jensen thinks he's a good guy. Jared grins the rest of the night.

*

Whatever Mike, Katie and Tom's bullshit is, Jared is _so_ over it. Since the day he had to go hang out in the lobby, one of them has been sick nearly every single day. It's a pain in Jared's ass, because one way or another, he's the one picking up all the slack: when Katie's out, Jared has to do the mail; when Tom's out, Jared has to cover Justin's lunch break at reception; when Mike's out, well. Actually, that's not so bad. Jared still has no idea what Mike does all day.

Today Katie's out, and Mike's been MIA since ten o'clock. Jared stops by Justin's desk in the afternoon and asks him if he's seen Mike.

"Last I saw, he was going up to records," Justin says.

"Hey, do you know what's up with them?" Jared normally wouldn't pry for gossip, but this is affecting his ability to loaf. Also, if there's anyone who knows everything that's going on at the firm, it's Justin. For some reason, people tend to tell him stuff.

Justin raises an eyebrow. "Seriously? You work with them, how do you not know?"

Jared shrugs. "I don't know, man, I try not to get involved."

"Sure you don't."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," Justin's smug look makes Jared's palm itch. "Just, I heard you've been spending a lot of time with Jensen."

Jared's stomach drops into his shoes. "Maybe. So?"

"So, I'd just be worried about Jeff's temper, if I were you."

"What the hell does Jeff-- You know what? Nevermind. I don't want to know, and I'll ask Mike what his deal is myself. Here," he says, and hands over a bunch of mail. Justin takes it with a smile.

"See you later," he says. Jared hits the 'up' button at the elevator harder than he needs to.

Imelda is alone in records. "Katie sick," she says. "Very bad."

"Yeah," Jared agrees. "Have you seen Tom or Mike around?"

"No Tom, no Mike, all day."

Jared chews the inside of his cheek. "Okay, thanks. Here's your mail."

The afternoon is a race against the clock. Jared's got to sort and stamp all the mail, get the UPS and FedEx stuff done, order more folders for Mr. Nguyen and make copies of like, ten thousand law books. Mike never shows up again and Jared starts to get seriously worried.

He's pulling on his coat at six-thirty, dead on his feet, when he notices a FedEx box standing in the corner, and he remembers that it was too big for the cart, so he'd set it aside for later. Jared groans, it looks like now is later. He hefts it up on his way out the door. It's for Jeff.

The office is almost entirely dark, all the cubicles and offices are silent. Jeff's got the corner office--cliche if Jared's ever heard one--and his door is shut like all the rest, but the light's on. Jared shoves it open, saying, "Hey, Jeff, sorry, I forgot to deliv--"

And he stops. He stops talking and blinking and breathing. He drops the package on the floor.

Jensen's--

Jensen's scrambling out of Jeff's lap.

Jensen's tie is askew and his hair is rumpled and he's reflected in the wall of windows behind Jeff's desk. He looks shocked. Jeff looks mildly amused, which isn't unusual.

Jensen's fixing his clothing and he's saying something that Jared doesn't catch because Jared's talking over him, saying, "Sorry, I didn't mean to-- you had a box-- Sorry." And he's closing the door and walking to the elevator and riding it down and striding out into the darkness.

*

Jared feels like an asshole for calling in sick, but also little bit like he's earned it. He calls Mike on his cell, both to make sure Mike's alive and to let him know that they're on their own tomorrow. Mike doesn't ask, just says to rest up.

Jared really does feel sick. Sick and stupid and...unbelievably goddamned naive. He's blind and...and stupid. He's so dumb he's run out of words for it. He lies in bed until his muscles start twitching, unused to so much inactivity. He's supposed to go take the placement tests for school tonight, but at the moment that's the last thing he feels like doing. Stupid idea anyway. What's he going to do, become an engineer?

Maybe he should be a lawyer, they're all raging assholes and so's he.

Since he's already feeling awesome, he decides to make the call to his mom that he's been avoiding. He lets her know that he's applying to school, and no, it's okay, he doesn't need any money, but thanks for the offer anyway. She's crying when he hangs up and Jared feels like throwing his phone against the wall.

He doesn't; he calls Sarah and she agrees to meet him at the coffee shop in twenty minutes. Jared bypasses the shower and pulls on the clothes he wore yesterday. He takes the long way to the coffee shop, in the opposite direction of Jensen's house, but it doesn't help. He's defenseless against the onslaught of images: Jensen straddling Jeff's lap, looking shocked, tie askew; his mind runs with it and he pictures Jensen making Jeff coffee in his new place, right now, all post-coital and happy; pictures Jeff stretched out in Jensen's bed. Pictures them naked together and what the fuck, fucking _Jeff_. It makes no sense.

"Oh Jared, I'm sorry," Sarah says after he's told her the whole pathetic story. She squeezes his hand where it rests on the table.

He takes his hand back to cradle his head. "I'm such an asshole," he says.

"No you're not, sweetie. You're not. There's no way you could have known what was going on, right?"

Jared looks up. He thinks about it. Justin's innuendo makes all kinds of new sense now, and he wonders if he intentionally blocked out the signs. "I guess not," he says. "I mean, we talked about his wife."

Sarah nods. "And you never told him how you feel?"

"No."

"So he never had a chance to tell you that he was involved with someone. I'm guessing the law firm's a pretty conservative place, right?"

"Yeah."

"So it makes sense that he wouldn't have wanted anyone to know, especially if he's involved with his boss. There are probably rules about that kind of thing."

Jared sighs. "Probably. But we're friends. Friends tell each other when they're dating, don't they?" And just then, he remembers the conversation they had in the Korean restaurant. Jensen _had_ told him about Jeff, just not in so many words. And he hadn't listened, because he hadn't wanted to. He groans, clutching his head again. "Oh God, he _did_ tell me, and I was just too stupid to get it. Fuck, I'm such an _dumbass_."

"Oh, sweetie," Sarah says, and lets him bang his head on the table.

*

The placement tests are a blur. He's got no idea what he's doing; all of his studying goes right out the window. The essay he writes is complete bullshit and by the time he gets to the math, he's pretty much skiing down the scantron. They tell him to expect the results by mail in a couple of weeks.

Later that night his phone rings. It's Jensen. Jared picks up anyway.

"Hey Jared," he says. "You alright?"

"Yeah, just wasn't feeling well."

"That's what Mike said. Listen, I'm sorry. About how, you know, I was going to tell you--"

"Jensen, it's none of my business. I'm sorry for barging in." Jared's lying on his bed, and he can't have this conversation there. He gets up and paces.

"Yeah. I wanted to tell you, but Jeff didn't want it spreading around the office."

Jared laughs. "I think it's too late for that. Justin knew before I did."

"Shit."

"Mm."

"It's not like I'm ashamed or anything. Neither's Jeff, but he's going through a divorce, and. Well, you know."

Jesus Christ, when did he get trapped inside a soap opera? This is all just way more than he needs to know. "I guess I'm just a little surprised, you know. Maybe hurt that you didn't think you could trust me."

"Jared, man, you're like, my best friend. Of _course_ I trust you. Believe me, if it'd only been my news to tell, I would have, but Jeff..."

"Yeah, no I get it," he says. Twenty-four hours ago, he probably would have danced on the ceiling at hearing that Jensen considered him his best friend. He almost wants to laugh at the irony. Now that he knows Jensen isn't straight, he's permanently relegated to a role he would have died for a short time ago. He wants to punch something.

There's a pause that feels like an eternity, and then Jensen clears his throat. "So, can I ask you something?"

"Sure," says Jared, staring blindly at the four walls of his room.

"How did you know?"

"Know what?"

"That you were gay. When did you figure it out?"

The four walls of his room turn into glass; Jared's exposed and vulnerable and his head is full of static. "Huh?"

"I'm sorry, I just assumed. I didn't mean to imply-- Shit. Jared," Jensen takes a long inhale. "You are gay, right?"

"Yeah," he says faintly, and wants to laugh. What the hell? He feels like he's in the wrong play or something; everyone else is acting out a story he's never even heard of, and he's stumbling in half way through. "I'm gay."

"How did you know?" Jensen skips right over the apparently not-earth-shattering announcement. He sounds keyed up, like Jared's next answer is important, and Jared takes a steadying breath. He shoves all of his own shit aside for a second and thinks about what Jensen's asking, what he needs to hear as a friend.

"When I was twelve," he says. "My step-daddy-at-the-time caught me kissing a neighbor behind the garage. He whooped my ass good. That was when I knew that what I was was wrong. But I'm pretty sure I knew that I liked boys before then. Just took that long to put a name to it."

"And you never... Never thought about girls?"

"I tried. They kind of make you try at straight camp." Jared starts pacing again.

Jensen hisses. "Fuck, Jay--"

"Listen, it's no big deal. If you're asking me if there's some kind of magic switch that gets flipped and then you know, well. That's not true for everyone. For you, it might be just Jeff." And those are the hardest words he's ever had to say. "Or it might be that you like both, and that's totally okay. The important question is: does Jeff make you happy? Because that's all that matters." Scratch that, _those_ are the hardest words he's ever had to say.

"Yeah. Yeah, I know you're right, it's just. It's been a lot to take in, you know? Like, suddenly I have to see myself in this whole new light, and," Jensen laughs. "It's kind of freaking me out, to be honest."

Jared wishes he was there with Jensen so that he could give him a hug. "I hear you. It's hard to figure out. Society has these ideas about what gay and straight means, and it's really tough to see yourself as, I don't know, some kind of alien all of a sudden."

"Yeah, totally. That's what it feels like, like I don't know myself. Or, I guess, how to be myself."

"Well," Jared says. "Just because society says you should act differently doesn't mean you have to. You're still you. There are as many ways of being a gay man as there are gay men. If you don't want to march in a parade, you don't have to." Jared runs a hand through his hair. He chuffs a laugh. "You're still allowed to use power tools if you like cock."

Jensen laughs, and the relief in his voice is palpable. "Yeah. Thanks, man. God, I've been dying to talk to you about this. I knew you'd have good answers."

Jared bangs his head on the wall. He's going to have a lump there in the morning. "See," he says, with artificial levity. "This is why you don't keep secrets from your friends."

Jensen laughs. "I'm glad you know."

Jared's got absolutely no comeback for that. "I'm glad you're happy."

"Yeah," Jensen says. "I really am."

They're gonna have to take away Jared's shoelaces and belt if this conversation goes on any longer. "Alright. Hey listen, I'm still not feeling so great. I'm gonna go, but I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Oh, shit, yeah, of course. Sorry, dude. Go to bed, drink fluids. You need me to get you anything? Aspirin? Crackers?"

"No," Jared says, and lets his smile bleed into his voice. Jensen might be killing him by inches, but he's still a really good friend. "Thanks. I'm good. Night, Jensen."

"Good night."

Jared hangs up, stares at the wall for a while, and then knocks on Misha's door. Misha answers it, and hugs him back when Jared leans in.

He lets Misha kiss him, and then he lets Misha take off his clothes, and he folds down to the bed like paper when Misha guides him.

*

It isn't until lunchtime the next day that he starts to freak out about how Jensen knew he was gay. He follows Mike to lunch and says, point blank: "Did you know I was gay?"

Mike stops chewing his sandwich and arches an eyebrow. "Are you serious?"

"Yeah, kinda."

"Jared, baby, you're gayer than a rainbow. I didn't know it was a secret. I thought you were out and proud."

"Why?"

"Well, let me see." He sets his sandwich down and counts off on his fingers. "The way you've been mooning over Jensen ever since you started, that was a giant clue. And then there's the wardrobe. And the muscles. And the hair. And the--"

"Okay, I get it. Fuck," Jared says, and then slumps in his seat. "So like, everyone's known, this whole time?"

Mike shrugs and resumes chewing. "I don't know, I guess. You never made the office gossip, if that's what you mean, so it's not like it was enough of a surprise to warrant a headline."

Jared harrumphs. Doesn't know what to do with that information. On the one hand, it's a relief. He doesn't have to feel like he's hiding anything. And this whole time people have known and haven't treated him any different. No one's come after him with a baseball bat, so. That goes in the plus column. But on the other hand, so much wasted energy worrying about it. So much time spent policing his own behavior like an idiot, and not even doing that good of a job of it apparently.

"I'm such an asshole," he says.

"You gonna eat that?" Mike asks, poking at Jared's sandwich.

"Go for it." Jared's got no appetite anyway. "So, what's up with you and Katie and Tom? I noticed you're all here on the same day. Things smoothed out?"

Mike's grin is devilish. "Yeah, I think so. Both of them wanted my hot bod. We figured out a schedule, so they could share."

Jared's laugh, when it finally comes, borders on hysterical. He's afraid he might not be able to stop.

"What?" Mike says. "Dude, it's not that funny." He looks affronted and that just makes Jared laugh harder.

He's wiping tears from his eyes when he finally manages to say, "No, seriously, that's cool. Right on."

Mike gives him the hairy eyeball, but starts in on Jared's sandwich with dignity at full mast. "Now, for my next trick, I'm going to get them both in bed with me at the same time."

"Good luck with that," Jared says, and pushes his chips toward Mike. He thinks he might throw up in his mouth a little.

*

He goes to a meeting after work just for the company. Kate's the secretary, so he knows she'll be there. She's started picking up more commitments since her relapse, tying herself more firmly to the community. Jared gets that; he feels like maybe he needs that, too.

He helps her clean up afterwards. She's never been much of a talker, but she's a great listener. "What do you think your triggers are?" he asks her when she's locking up.

She flicks black bangs out of her eyes. She's kind of, well, intimidating, for lack of a better word. In an androgynous kind of way. Jared knows her story; they've all shared their 'befores' and he knows that hers makes his look like a trip to Disneyland. For a second, his heart aches for all the fucked up people in the world, all the ones trying to make it better and all the ones who don't know where to start.

"Well," she says. "I guess what it comes down to, for me, is my sense of identity."

Jared nods, willing her to go on.

"Like, who I am, deep down, and not knowing if that person's okay. Like, how can I put it? Uh," she stops, pulls at her lip. "Like it's okay for me to be here? On planet Earth... I have a place in the world, and I have work to do, and it's meaningful, you know? Like, even if this spinning ball of clay is all there is, and life is random and there's no point, ultimately, then at least the contributions I make are worthy, even if only to myself. When I lose sight of that, everything starts to slip."

"Shit," Jared breathes. "Yeah, I think I get that." He looks at her as they walk down the darkened sidewalk. He should have guessed that Kate was deep. "You sound kind of like my neighbor. He says that all that matters is what we do to help each other."

Kate nods. "Your neighbor sounds like a smart guy."

"Yeah," Jared says. "I think he is."

*

Jared's in the kitchen fixing Mr. Nguyen's coffee pot when Jeff comes in. Immediately Jared's spine stiffens.

"Good morning," Jeff says.

"Morning." Jared shoves the pump apparatus back into place, hands shaking with the need to get out of there.

"Listen, Jared," Jeff says, pouring himself a cup of coffee, smooth and easy as anything. Like he's a lion surveying his kingdom. And he should feel like that, Jared reckons, there's no threat for miles. "Jensen wanted me to invite you over to his place for dinner on Friday. If you're free."

Jared blinks. "What?"

Jeff smirks and says, "He'd like it if you and I got to know each other better, outside of work. He thought you'd take the invitation more seriously if it came from me. And," Jeff stops stirring his coffee and stands straight, looking Jared dead in the eye. "I'd like that, too. You mean a lot to him, and that's too rare. Jensen's not an easy guy to get to know. I'd like it if we could be friends."

Jared feels an irrational surge of rebellion, like Jeff's some kind of authority figure and Jared has no choice. But that's not true, not in this situation. Jared absolutely can tell Jeff to fuck off if he wants to, and that calms him down.

And he would say no, if it wasn't Jensen's request. At bottom, what Jared feels for Jensen is a deep and unconditional kind of love, and if there's something within his power to give Jensen, then he'll do it. Even if it tears him up inside.

So he says, "Okay. Can I bring anything?"

"Dessert? There's a pastry shop over near Jensen's house, you know it?"

"Yeah."

"Great. Jensen likes strawberries. See you at seven o'clock?"

Jared nods, mute. He knows Jensen likes strawberries. Jeff walks out of the kitchen and Mr. Nguyen's coffee pot is still in pieces.

*

Misha's a really nice guy. He's smart and funny, and okay, maybe a little weird, but that's not a bad thing. He tells Jared about stuff he's never heard of before, and he manages to make it interesting without sounding like a know-it-all. Like the stuff he knows doesn't make him better than Jared. It's pretty cool.

Also, the sex is good. Misha's surprisingly flexible; Jared considers taking up yoga.

Misha knows that Jared's hung up on Jensen. He's said as much, and he's said that he doesn't mind. He's not looking for ownership of Jared, he'd said, just a little connection, if they both feel so inclined. Jared feels more inclined every day.

Misha's gentle. He's what Jared needs, and when worry flares up that he's taking advantage of Misha, Misha makes him dinner and says things like, "It's a mutually beneficial arrangement," without elaborating.

Jared goes with it, figuring it's a healthy step toward refocusing his priorities. Another thing he does to refocus is not avoid Jensen, even if it's what he wants most in life. He wants to hide in a cave and lick his wounds and never go back to work, ever. Instead, he works on being a good and supportive friend.

He continues to ask Jensen if he wants to go to the juice place, and occasionally Jensen says yes. They sip wheatgrass and talk about Jeff and Jared thinks that the feeling of dying inside is just his hopes shriveling. Hope, in this situation, is about as useful as an appendix. He figures that in a little while he'll be fine, and they can go on being friends. He figures eventually he'll forget all about his crush, and with the wisdom of years and hindsight, he'll be glad that they kept the friendship platonic.

Or anyway, that's what he tells himself in his better moods. Other times, he berates himself for being a pathetic puppy, hovering under the table to gather what few scraps of Jensen's affection fall to the floor.

When David calls him, Jared mentions that he's going to see Jensen and Jeff later in the week. David's lack of enthusiasm piques his interest.

"What's up?" he asks.

"Jeff is boring," David says. "He never wants to watch wrestling. All he wants to do is talk to Jensen."

Jared tries not to feel vindicated. He just says, "He's alright, I guess. Not everybody can be as cool as we are, huh?"

Friday afternoon Jensen asks him if he likes steak. Jared says yes.

He's dreading dinner tonight worse than anything he can remember dreading. It feels worse than when they led him into court for sentencing.

He knocks on the door, straightening his collar. He'd ironed a shirt and everything, doesn't want to be taken for a kid. He has the feeling that tonight's going to be a very grown-up affair.

Jensen answers the door, smiling. He's wearing a button-down, too, but jeans. He's barefoot.

Jared accepts the hug Jensen gives him and hands over the bottle of San Pellegrino mineral water and the white pastry box he brought. Inside is a strawberry pie.

Jensen ushers him into the living room, and it looks way different from the last time he'd been here. There's a couch, for one thing, right in front of the fireplace. And there's a TV and bookshelves and an armchair. It looks like a grown-up lives here.

"Come on in," Jensen says.

"Wow, your place looks nice," Jared says, and takes a seat in the armchair.

"Yeah," Jensen says, scratching the back of his neck. "I finally got around to having stuff." He laughs, and Jared chuckles.

This is worse than Sunday afternoons at the preacher's house.

Jeff comes out from the kitchen. He's smiling big and he envelops Jared in a hug. "Jared, hey," he says. "Dinner's almost ready. Can I get you anything to drink? I've got a bottle of merlot open."

Jensen cuts in, "You want some Pellegrino? Think I might have some."

"Yeah, thanks," Jared says, nodding at Jensen.

Drinks in hand, they settle in the living room. Jeff and Jensen are on the couch; Jared stays in the armchair.

"So, I hear you're going to school," Jeff says.

Jared imagines that this would be the same tone of voice Jeff would use if Jared were picking up his daughter for prom. He stomps on the urge to laugh. Seriously, he doesn't get what Jensen sees in this guy. "Yeah, night school," he says.

Jared watches Jensen shift closer to Jeff on the couch. They're sitting close already, and now Jensen's leaning into him.

"That's great," Jeff says, and runs a hand over Jensen's knee. "What are you going to major in?"

"Don't know yet," he says, and mulls over the idea of telling Jeff a little bit of his story. If he thought he could shock the guy, he probably would, but that would entail telling Jensen, too, and. Yeah, he's not too keen on seeing shock or pity on Jensen's face. "Thinking about psychology, maybe. Maybe look into counseling."

"Oh yeah?" Jeff takes a sip of wine from his juice glass. Jensen doesn't have any wine glasses. "That's cool."

"Where'd you go to school?" Jared asks, taking any avenue to shift focus off himself. Jensen's looking at Jeff like he's made out of cake.

"Boalt," Jeff says. "For law. Before that I was at Stanford. Majored in history and poli sci."

Jared thinks about it, and he realizes he's never voluntarily been in a room with someone like this before. Not for a social occasion. He wouldn't have said he had class issues, but who knows, maybe he does, because all he can think about is how Jeff's life's probably been handed to him on a silver platter. Jeff's probably never had to wonder where his next meal was going to come from.

"Yeah? You grow up in the area?" Jensen is smiling at him like the fact that Jared can make small talk is the equivalent of a dolphin doing tricks for fish.

"Actually," Jeff rumbles a small laugh, takes his hand off of Jensen's knee. He looks...shy? "I grew up in Washington State. My dad was a lawyer, and he pushed me to follow in his footsteps, but. For a long time I resisted it. I came down here to go to school, and...kind of to get out of his shadow, you know? When you're young and you're looking for somewhere to disappear, California's it, right?" He laughs again, and it sounds self-deprecating. Jared shifts, uncomfortable with the sudden candor.

"Yeah," he says, because he does know. He's a little surprised that he gets that; he doesn't want to admit that he feels the same way.

"I'm going to go check on dinner," Jensen says, and then it's just him and Jeff in the living room.

Jeff sets his glass down by his feet and leans his elbows on his knees. "Listen, Jared," he starts.

Involuntarily, Jared straightens up in his chair.

"I know that you don't know me all that well, and I know that you and Jensen are close." Jared considers it. A couple of weeks ago, he would've said that it was true; today he's not so sure. "It's probably weird for you, that I'm in Jensen's life, and I don't want it to be. I want us to be friends," Jeff says. "Jensen's been through a lot, and he deserves to have good people like you around."

Jeff stops, like that's all he's going to say. Jared nods. "Yeah," he says.

"I just want you to know that I'm not-- Jensen's amazing, and I'm not going to hurt him. I want to be around for as long as he wants me to be."

Jared nods again, totally not following. Jeff's looking at him like...like he's looking for approval, and all of a sudden, Jared gets it, and he leans forward, too, eyes going wide. Because _he's_ not the prom date, _Jeff_ is. Jeff's, like, interviewing for the position of Jensen's boyfriend. He's looking for Jared's blessing, and the world tilts on its axis.

In the face of that, what can Jared say? No, you're not good enough? Ridiculous. Not only because Jeff's a grown-up, with his shit together and a fairly impressive resume, but because Jared's seen the way Jensen looks at him. It wouldn't matter if Jeff was a hobo, Jensen clearly loves him. In the face of all of that, what could Jared's stamp of approval possibly weigh?

"Uh, well," he says, and clears his throat. "That's good to know."

Jeff leans back, apparently satisfied. His expression goes soft. "You mean a lot to him, you know that?"

Jared shrugs. He honestly has no idea where he stands in Jensen's estimation.

"He talks about you all the time. He says you're really good with David, and that's huge."

"David's great. I like hanging out with him."

"Yeah. I'm glad we're square," says Jeff, as if this weird conversation has settled something. Mostly, the last few minutes have left Jared stranded even further at sea.

"Okay," he says. He's glad that Jensen likes him, even if it's not in the way he'd been hoping for. If Jensen's happy with Jeff, well. He guesses they're square. There's nothing much else to say.

Jared's starting to think that Jeff's a decent guy; he's finding it harder by the minute to conjure up the appropriate level of hatred for him. In fact, he's finding that he doesn't actually hate him at all. It's troubling.

"Steaks are ready when we are," Jensen says from the doorway.

"Let's eat," says Jeff, and Jared follows him into the dining room.

*

Misha says that eating is a form of communion. To share food with others is to share life, or something. Jared's not completely convinced of that, but he thinks he gets the basic sentiment; he thinks it's nice. He's shoveling another forkful of mashed potatoes into his mouth when he says, "Jensen, this is amazing. I didn't know you could cook."

"I can't, actually. Jeff cooked," Jensen says, and looks sort of fondly across the table to where Jeff's cutting up his steak.

Jeff shrugs when Jared makes an impressed noise. "It's not that big a deal. All of this was easy."

It doesn't look easy to Jared. Steak, mashed potatoes, asparagus with some kind of sauce. Jared ladles another spoonful of roasted carrots onto his plate. They taste like brown sugar.

Jensen's dining room is silent for a while, as they eat. Jared tries to slow down, but it's been a long time since he's had a meal as good as this. What Misha feeds him is always delicious in its own exotic way, but this is a feast. Red meat, potatoes. Hearty food that, while still kind of fancy, reminds Jared of home.

Later, Jensen says, "So, Jared, you all ready for school?"

Jared wipes his mouth and tucks his napkin back in his lap. "Yeah, I think so. I mean, I haven't bought a notebook yet, or anything, but I'm signed up, got all my classes."

"Did you decide between anthropology and art?"

"Yeah," Jared says. "I figured anthropology would be more useful, so."

Jeff takes a sip of his wine. "I've been trying to convince Jensen to go back to school. I think he'd make a great paralegal," he says.

Jared looks over at Jensen. "Oh yeah?"

Jensen takes a bite of steak and stares at his plate. Jeff continues, "Yeah. He's smart. Too smart to waste his talent as an assistant. He'd be a real asset to the firm."

"Jeff-" Jensen starts, shaking his head. Jeff talks over him.

"I know, I know. You're not ready to think about it, but I wish you would. Think about your career path, Jen. Think about what you want out of life."

Jensen smiles at Jeff and says, "I do think about it. I think I've got a lot of what I want already."

Jeff smiles back and it's suddenly a private moment. Jared clears his throat. "You think you'd enjoy being a paralegal?"

They both look at him, and the moment's over. "I don't know," says Jensen. "I've seen the work they do, and I think I could manage it, but. I don't know if I'm ready to make it a career, you know?"

"I think you'd be great at whatever you do," Jared says, and the conversation turns toward less tense subjects, like politics and religion.

As dinner goes on, Jared studies Jeff. He watches how he talks and how he looks at Jensen. He's different from how he is at the office. More warm. It's as if, Jared thinks, Jeff's not on guard.

Jared remembers something his ex-step-daddy used to say, about men going off to battle. About how nowadays with no frontier left, no wars to fight, men have become soft in their civilization. Men by their nature, he'd say, were meant to prove themselves and kids today had been done a disservice. Instead of rites of passage, instead of combat, boys learned to sit in offices in fancy suits and their soft hands wouldn't know how to handle a gun.

Of course, his ex-step-daddy had been talking about hunting, and had been cleaning a rifle at the time, but Jared looks at Jeff and has no doubt that he's looking at the kind of man who'd get his ex-step-daddy's approval. A man who knows how to take care of his family. Someone who probably could kill with his bare hands. Jared feels very much like a little boy in comparison.

But it's not just the potential for violence that Jared can see, it's more than that. Jared's never been impressed with sheer brutality. No, Jeff is a man on another level entirely, one that's even more imposing.

Jeff's the kind of man who's not only read books, but read books about books, and who can talk about everything with in-depth analysis, every topic pinging on some new anecdote that's amusing while still coming off as self-deprecating.

Jeff's the kind of guy who probably has a subscription to the New Yorker; Jared bets he even reads every article in every issue and the thing about him is this: Jared can't hate him. He's jealous of him, of course; he's with Jensen. But even as they talk and eat and laugh Jared can see that he's a good guy, that he's a good person and that Jensen's just as lucky as Jeff is. But he's jealous of more than that.

Maybe it isn't jealousy. Maybe it's envy. Jeff has what Jared wants. He's urbane and cultured, funny and kind. He's lived life and had the kind of experiences and tells the kind of stories that don't all end in tragedy. He has connected with people and he's given and received...what? He almost thought 'love' but it's not exactly that, it's something bigger and more diffuse.

Jeff's the kind of guy who's at ease in the world.

He's flung himself into the tide of people and ideas and knowledge, and he's been buoyed by them. He's confident. Jeff, Jared realizes, has an effortless ability to be understood. He's not hiding shameful secrets or riddled with guilt. He's not cramped up with self-doubt; he's probably never sat up nights thinking about all of the things he's done wrong.

Or if he has, it hasn't paralyzed him.

Jeff makes an effort to draw Jared into the conversation, turns his smile towards Jared and softly encourages him. He draws Jared out. Jared can feel the beam of Jeff's regard warm him from the inside out, even as Jared resists the pull.

Dinner goes well. Jared is full and his face hurts from smiling so much. Jeff and Jensen both seem pleased.

Afterward, Jared offers to clean up. "It's the least I can do," he says. "Y'all cooked and everything."

After a token protest, Jensen joins Jeff in the living room. Jared rinses and stacks everything in the dishwasher, does a few of the nicer-looking pots by hand.

When he goes back out to join them, Jeff is sitting on the couch with Jensen's head in his lap. He's rubbing slow circles across Jensen's chest.

Jared shifts his weight from one foot to the other and says, "Uh."

Jensen lifts his head and smiles at Jared, but doesn't get up. It's another private moment, and it's clearly time for Jared to go.

"I guess I should probably go," he says.

"Stay," Jensen says, and raises an arm in welcome. "I'll make coffee; we'll have dessert."

Jared takes a step further into the room--he has to, the door's on the other side of the couch. "No," he says. "It's cool. I'm full, anyways. Thanks a lot for dinner, it was awesome."

But he hovers for a moment longer, not sure if he should shake hands or what. Jensen stands up, sleepy-eyed and smiling. Jeff doesn't move from his corner of the couch, but he watches them both. "Don't go yet," Jensen says, and crosses over to stand in front of Jared.

Jensen takes each of Jared's hands in one of his own and holds them. He's got a small smile, and the lamp light makes his eyes glitter. Jared stares at him for a moment. Jensen's hands are warm and dry and strong. Jensen leans in and kisses Jared on the lips.

Jared lets it happen for a second. He closes his eyes and feels it, shocked into stillness. There's a rustling, sofa springs creaking, and Jared opens his eyes, moving half a step back. Jensen's very close to him; he has Jared's hands trapped. Jeff stands close, too, off to the side. "I--" Jared says, and then stops.

Jeff comes up, rests a hand on the back of Jensen's neck. Jensen says, "Is this okay?" And kisses him again. Time slows down.

It's deeper this time, longer. Jared opens his mouth when Jensen nudges. Jared can feel Jensen's warmth all over.

Is it okay? Jared doesn't know. What are they asking him? Are they inviting him to bed?

Jensen pulls away and Jared opens his eyes again. Jeff is gone. Jensen's looking at him, waiting for an answer. "I--" Jared says again, dumbly.

"Wanted to do that for a while," Jensen says, and Jared is confused. "Will you let me...?" Jensen drops Jared's hands and touches him lightly on the chest. He rests his palm over Jared's heart and Jared's mouth is dry; Jensen takes his silence for assent, and unbuttons the top button of Jared's shirt. Jared sucks in a breath.

Has he slipped into some kind of parallel reality? Is he dreaming? It makes no sense. "Wait," he says, and Jensen stops. He's looking at Jared with trepidation. As if he's afraid Jared will tell him no. As if he _wants_ Jared. "I don't understand," he says.

Jensen's worried look breaks with a smile, sun behind the clouds. He says, "Sleep with us. Or just me, however you want it. I just. Let me--" And the clouds come back. Jared realizes he hasn't moved, that Jensen's boldness is draining away and that if Jared doesn't say something quick, Jensen will pull back.

He kisses Jensen. He doesn't think about it, or what it'll mean or what'll happen next, he just leans in, crushing himself against Jensen's chest. He wraps his arms around Jensen's back, pulls him closer and he moans as Jensen opens his mouth.

Jensen's as good of a kisser as Jared had imagined.

Jensen's taking Jared's shirt off and walking backwards, leading Jared toward the couch. Jared is swaying, overwhelmed. He dares to break the kiss, to run his lips down Jensen's neck. Jensen tilts his head back and lets him. Jared's shirt hits the floor and then Jensen's unbuckling Jared's belt. Jared runs his hands from Jensen's shoulders to his wrists. He pulls back and looks Jensen in the eye.

"Are you sure?" he asks. "Is Jeff--" He looks over and Jeff is standing in the doorway, watching. He turns to address Jeff. "What..."

Jensen's hands are moving again. The clank of Jared's belt is loud. Jeff unfolds his arms and puts his hands in his pockets. "Nothing you don't want," he says.

Jensen's pushing Jared's pants and boxers down and going to his knees. Jared can't think. He's watching Jensen and he doesn't know what to do with his hands. When Jensen takes Jared's cock into his mouth, Jared's hands clutch in his hair. He stutters a curse.

Jeff's hands are undressing Jensen now, moving under shadow and over skin. Jensen's naked and Jared shivers, standing next to the couch, gulping breath, clutching the arm of it to hold himself up. Jensen's kissing Jeff open-mouthed and breathless and Jeff's guiding him back down, laying him out on his back on the couch and Jensen reaches up, rests his head on the arm of the couch, rubs a hand down Jared's side and bringing him closer. He looks into Jared's eyes for consent and Jared gives it. Jensen twists up to take Jared's dick back in his mouth and it's not the ideal position, but Jared's distracted watching Jeff, on his knees between Jensen's legs, rubbing his hands up Jensen's calves, under his knees and then bending to place kisses along Jensen's thighs, which fall open. Jensen moans around Jared's dick and Jared braces himself, one hand holding onto the back of the couch, the other carding through Jensen's hair, down his face, to his jaw. He can feel Jensen inside and out. He's surrounded and Jensen's tongue is hard and soft at the same time. He's looking up and Jared breathes deep, willing himself to slow down.

Jeff's thumb presses into the side of Jensen's throat, he palms Jensen's neck and Jensen's eyes close. For a second it feels like a fight for control, Jared's hand only an inch away from Jeff's. Jensen's body a battleground. Like Jeff's reminding him that Jensen isn't his to keep. Jensen moans again and Jeff retreats. He's whispering things like _beautiful_.

And this isn't exactly how he'd imagined it would be; it isn't even close to perfect, but this is _his_ , for right now, anyway, and Jared will take it with both hands.

Jared looks down and Jeff's stilling Jensen's hand on his dick. He says, "Not yet, sweetheart." Jeff's pants are undone and he's rolling on a condom. Jensen twists again as Jeff lifts his ass up. Jensen pulls his mouth from Jared's cock and starts jacking him off, panting, a bead of sweat rolling down his hairline. Jared watches as Jeff opens Jensen up and slides in. Jensen's chest hitches, he throws his head back and he really is beautiful, hard and leaking, open and taking Jeff in. Jared's left unattended, forgotten for a moment, and he wraps a hand around his dick and squeezes. He closes his eyes and concentrates on not coming.

"Jay," Jensen says, and his voice is pleading. Jared opens his eyes. "Come here."

In this position, standing over the couch, Jared would have to do most of the work. He'd be fucking Jensen's mouth. Jared shakes his head but Jensen tangles his fingers with Jared's and pulls him closer. "I don't want to hurt you," Jared says.

"Please," Jensen says and then his eyes roll back as Jeff starts to move.

"Let him," Jeff says. "He wants it."

"Oh God," Jared whispers, but when Jensen tugs him closer, he goes. He braces himself again and guides his cock to Jensen's mouth.

Jared holds onto the couch with both hands, lets Jensen lead him as much as possible. He can't go too deep, but Jensen uses his tongue and his hands and after a minute, Jared figures out the rhythm, moves in little shallow bursts in counterpoint. Jensen's rocking up with every one of Jeff's thrusts. He keeps his eyes on Jensen's face and he can hear Jeff talking. Jeff's narrating every movement, murmuring encouragement and direction.

"So fucking beautiful. All strung out, begging for cock. Look how needy you are," he says, and Jensen's moaning and taking it. He hooks his knees over Jeff's shoulders and wraps a hand around Jared's hip, pulling him deeper. The tendons in Jensen's neck strain as he twists to take more of Jared. Jeff's fucking faster, hips jerking and Jensen's jacking himself off, twisting and straining, sweating between them.

Jared's wild, totally off balance and not completely sure he's awake. Jensen's so fucking hot. Sexier than Jared could have imagined, but this goes beyond the pale of any fantasies he'd ever shamefully jerked off to. Jensen's begging him to fuck his mouth and Jeff's filthy litany of commands and praise is ringing in Jared's ears and he's really fucking close. He says, "Jen, I'm gonna--"

Jensen pulls off and Jeff says, "Let him come on your face." And Jared loses it. He comes and Jensen's eyes are open, watching him. He tilts his head up, catching some of it on his tongue and then his head goes back, eyes closed tight and he's coming, too, all over his own belly. Jeff growls out a curse and speeds up, fucking Jensen hard into the couch and then he's groaning as he finishes.

Jared knows instantly that he can't stay. Even through the post-orgasm haze, he feels a trickle of sadness that threatens to turn into an ocean and drown him. He can't stay; this isn't his.

At some point Jared manages to dress himself. He turns down the offer to sleep there and later the details will be hazy, but then he's outside, striding down the late-night sidewalk. The wind whispers in the trees and he hurries.

When he gets home there's a message on his answering machine. It's his mom's latest husband. Jared needs to come home, his mom's been diagnosed with cancer.

*

"Jared!" Sandy says, dragging him down into a hug at her front door. "What are you doing here? It's great to see you!"

Jared hugs her back, even though every muscle screams in protest. He's just spent thirty-six hours on a bus. "Hey, Sandy," he says. "Is there any way I could crash on your couch for a couple of days?"

She pulls back to look at him. There are tears in her eyes and Jared has no idea what they're for. "Of course," she says. "Come in."

He tells her why he's home; she says she's sorry, that he's welcome to stay as long as he needs to. She doesn't ask why he won't stay at his mom's.

In a little while he'll go over to the hospital. He needs some time to psych himself up for it. He doesn't know how long he needs to stay. He asks if he can use her phone and she gives him some privacy. Jared calls Mike and lets him know that he made it okay--Mike had asked him to. He'd also said he'd keep Jared's job open as long as he can. Then he calls his probation officer to give her Sandy's address. There's apparently paperwork he needs to fill out, since he's out of state.

Before taking off he'd left a message on Jensen's home number, when he'd known that Jensen wouldn't be there, saying he'd be out of touch for a while. He doesn't explain why; when he tries the words get stuck in his throat. Jared's afraid if he starts talking about it, he'll never shut up.

He doesn't call Jensen again. As the days of silence pile up, he figures it's for the best. Jensen's happy with Jeff, and there's no room for him there. After what happened, Jared doesn't think he could settle for friendship anymore. He imagines things getting extremely awkward, and of the three of them, Jared has the least to lose by bowing out now. It's for the best if he just lets Jensen go.

He calls Misha, who hadn't been home when Jared had been packing. Misha's voicemail picks up and Jared isn't sure what to say. He'd spent the entire bus trip thinking and thinking about what went down with Jensen and Jeff and what it means and how he feels about it. He hadn't thought about whether or not he'd been cheating on Misha until he'd hit the state line. Now he keeps it brief, letting Misha know he'll be out of town and giving him Sandy's number just in case.

Sandy offers him her shower and Jared cleans up, grateful to have found Sandy at home. He hadn't planned any further than getting here.

Now he's toweling off his hair and Sandy's curled up in a chair sipping tea. They smile at each other like old friends. Which, Jared supposes, is true in a way. They've definitely known each other a long time.

Jared hasn't seen her since... Not since he took off for California, years ago. He can sense the moment they both realize exactly how long it's been.

"So," she says. "How's California?"

"You know," Jared says. "Fine. How about you? How've you been?"

"Good." She nods. "Really good. Jared, I want you to know that I don't blame you. For leaving, or...for any of it. It was a bad time, and." She shakes her head.

Jared sets aside the towel. "I'm sorry," he says in a whisper. "The way I left was really shitty. I should have at least let you know I was going."

"Jared, no. I know what it was like for you at home. You didn't owe me anything more than what you gave me. You stood by me when I needed you. I knew you had to go. You couldn't have lived in that house, not after it all came out. Don't think...Don't blame yourself."

Her eyes are wet again, and her eyebrows are quirked like she's trying to convince him. He's relieved that she doesn't hold a grudge, but it doesn't make him feel any better. He kind of fucked Sandy over. It's something that's kept him up at night. "But so," he starts, and his throat closes up. He coughs and tries again. "You're doing alright?"

"Yeah," she says, and smiles. "I really am. I've got a good job, and, well. You've seen my place." She laughs. "Yeah," she repeats softly. "I'm doing good."

"Good. That's good." They stare at one another for a moment. The sun is setting, slanting into the room and giving Sandy a halo. Jared thinks that's appropriate.

Jared and Sandy had dated, briefly, in high school, during one of those times when Jared had thought he really could be straight if he tried hard enough. When his ex-step-daddy had found out, he'd been pleased.

When he'd found out that Jared had gotten Sandy in trouble and subsequently driven her eighty miles to an abortion clinic, he'd broken Jared's arm.

His ex-step-daddy is in jail and Jared's arm has healed, but his relationship with Sandy is still in shards, unmended by time. At least, that's what Jared had assumed. Still, Sandy is the only person in the entire state Jared could come to in need. She really is a saint, Jared thinks.

She'd known all along that Jared wasn't interested in girls, but they'd been friends, and she'd been patient with his fumbling attempts to learn how to be straight. Back then Jared had believed what the pastors and the counselors told him: that homosexuality could be cured. That it was a disease of the will, able to be overcome with prayer.

From abstinence-only education on down to spontaneous miracle cures, there's not one person Jared had grown up with who'd escaped organized religion unscathed. Not even Sandy, who deserves nothing but good things in her life.

And now Jared's asking more of her.

"So, if you'd like, you can drop me off at work in the morning and use the car to go out and see your mama."

"Thanks," Jared says. He's not even sure where she lives now.

*

He heads over to the hospital and she's sleeping when he gets there. She's pale, lines etched in her face that hadn't been there five years ago. She's aged and she's worn and thin, a ghost of herself. She opens her eyes when he sits down.

"Hi, sweetie," she says. Her voice is paper thin.

"Hi, Mama," Jared says. He takes her hand and doesn't let the tears fall. "How you feelin'?"

His mama lets out a dry wheeze of a laugh. "Better today. It's good to see you."

He squeezes her hand.

*

The entire first month Jared's home, he believes he'll leave any day. After the second month, he's sure he'll leave one day, but he knows it might not be as soon as he wants to. Misha agrees to hold on to Jared's stuff for him when Sam, apologetically, says she needs to rent his apartment to someone else if he's not coming back.

In the third month he gets a job. It's just part-time, and they know that one day he might not show up, but they're good people and it's a _mutually beneficial arrangement_ , as Misha would say. He washes dishes in a diner next to the hospital.

His mama slips away a little bit more each day. She's not in pain, the nurses say. She's not in pain and she's ready. The Lord's waiting for her. That's what she'd said when she was aware enough to talk to him.

Jared sits at her bedside for a while every day. Other people come and go. His mama knew a whole lot of people, mostly from church. He realizes, ashamed, that he's already thinking of her in the past tense.

Jared spends a lot of time alone. He goes for walks. Occasionally he'll pass a bar and think about getting a drink. About being a regular guy, drinking a beer to unwind. Once, he makes it as far as inside one, but turns around and walks out, knowing one beer wouldn't be enough.

David calls him pretty regularly, which is both nice and weird, because Jared hasn't spoken to Jensen since that night. David sends him drawings and talks about wrestling and his job. Jared doesn't ask him how Jensen's doing.

Mike calls him a couple of times at first, but Jared's terrible about returning phone calls, so at some point Mike gives up. Sarah sends him an email with a list of meetings in his area. She sends him her love and Kate's.

Jared draws occasionally, cleans up Sandy's house. She's kind, never lets on if his seemingly endless residence on her couch is inconvenient.

One day his mama's current husband asks him to come to the house, see if there's anything of his he might want to keep. Jared doesn't ask if that means the husband intends to get rid of everything the minute she's in the ground.

The house is half of a shotgun ranch with a swaybacked porch and a screen door that's rusted off its hinges. It's been haphazardly drywalled into two houses, and the corridor is long and dark. Jared pokes through boxes. Piles of stuff he never thought he'd see again: report cards and soccer trophies, stuffed animals and yearbooks. In the end, Jared decides that he doesn't need any of it. He'll carry with him all the reminders of where he came from, whether or not he keeps any of this junk.

Instead he goes through his mama's stuff. He touches her dresses and her hairbrush. She always had such fine, long hair. Jared remembers watching her sit at her dressing table in the mornings, brushing her hair for what seemed to him to be hours. He remembers thinking he could have watched her all day. He takes a locket, a little oval on a gold chain. Inside is a picture of his mama on one side, his daddy on the other.

Everything else, he says, can go.

Jared is there six months when she finally passes in her sleep, in the middle of the night. Jared isn't there. He gets the call early the next morning. He goes to the hospital and collects all the flowers others had left.

There had been no accusations, no screaming tears or deathbed apologies. She'd lived and died and Jared hadn't really known her. At least, she hadn't known him, he thinks. He'll never understand the choices she'd made, why she let things happen the way they did.

No matter how much she may have loved him, Jared thinks, she hadn't been strong enough to protect him. He wipes a tear away and refuses to poke at the ugly thought, unbidden and half-hidden, that maybe she'd actually chosen to stay with an abusive, God-crazed drunk over protecting her only son. If he lets himself think like that, he'll explode. He stuffs it away, putting one foot in front of the other and breathing in and out, in and out, until he's calm.

It's over and Jared's still on autopilot. He's been numb so long he sometimes forgets what it's like not to be.

Her husband makes the arrangements and Jared finds a suit at the Goodwill that almost fits. He sits through cold cuts and casseroles, distant aunts and taciturn cousins. He sits through the Lord's Prayer and he drops a carnation on her casket. It's a bright, sunny afternoon.

He says thank you and he gives hugs and he smiles. He knows that once he leaves this place he'll never come back.

*

[Eighteen Months Later]

The history of humanity is the movement of peoples in diaspora. California, Jared thinks, is the end result of a thousand overlapping diasporas; it's an invisible palimpsest of nomads, people in transition and the inscribed patterns of flight. California is composed of those who don't want to forget their homelands and those who don't want to remember.

On every street corner there are crazy prophets, lost customs, prodigal sons. Jared watches them all through the plexiglas bus window. The city is breathing. If he looks hard enough, he can watch its pulse flutter, just under the skin.

He pulls the cord and gets off the bus and passes from the fetid smell of humanity into cleaner night air. It's cold and Jared buttons his coat.

Misha's home when Jared opens the door.

It had taken him a while to shake off the feeling that he'd been haunted. When he'd finally come back, it had been to a new landscape; everyone he used to know had been swept up and scattered in their own forms of migration. Coming back to California had been the third time Jared reassembled his life, but this time he has enough experience to know how the pieces need to fit.

They don't all fit perfectly, but Jared's willing to give it time. Misha's the port to his storm, a little more than a friend, a little less than a boyfriend.

"Hey," Misha calls out.

"Hi," Jared says and sets his bag down. He shrugs out of his coat and wanders into the living room. Misha's reading Immanuel Kant. He's passed from Eastern mysticism into a careful study of the history of Western philosophy. Jared's long since given up asking why. On the practical side, Jared appreciates this change, because it means Misha makes normal food. But it still feels like somehow Misha's lost his innocence. It makes no sense, but Jared feels a twinge of nostalgia for the old Misha.

"How was work?" Misha asks, glancing up from his book. He doesn't make any motion that Jared should join him.

"Thrilling," Jared says. "I learned how to make a heart with cappuccino foam."

"Soon you will be a master artisan," says Misha, turning back to his book.

Jared sits across from him and picks idly at the layers of detritus on the coffee table. Misha's also decided, in the time Jared's been gone, that owning furniture is worthwhile. Jared feels sad about this turn of events, too.

He pulls on the top layer of newspaper and most of the New York Times slides onto the floor. "Oh yeah," Misha says. "I saved the Book Review section for you. Didn't you used to know a guy named Jensen Ackles?"

"Yeah," says Jared, and straightens the newspaper into something readable.

"He wrote a book," Misha says. "At least, someone named Jensen Ackles did. I suppose there could be two of them."

The flare in Jared's gut is indecipherable. It feels at first like guilt, but it tapers into something closer to longing as he flips through the paper to find the right section. "Huh," he says noncommittally, and then he finds it.

Jensen _has_ written a book, just like he said he would. Jared reads the entire review twice before he sets down the paper. Aside from the customarily catty tone, the review is favorable. The reviewer makes a lot of hay out of first-time writers and the current vogue for memoir-fiction blends--a tangent that takes up almost two inches of column; Jared is resentful on Jensen's behalf--and then he winds up saying that Jensen's book is one of the better of the lot. Backhanded compliment, maybe, but still: New York Times backhanded is better than pure glowing praise from anyone else. Jared's read the NYT, he knows that anything that's posed as being problematic in it will be a hot topic for at least a few weeks. Jared's happy for Jensen.

He goes over the description of the plot again. The book has nothing to do with grifters, cops or Los Angeles. The book's about Jeff. At least, that's what Jared gets from reading between the lines. _A young man loses his wife, is anchorless with grief, and then has a gay revelation,_ is what the reviewer says. _Ackles' take on the bildungsroman is fresh, a twenty-first century update to David Copperfield._ Jared smiles. No doubt the review is absurdly reductive, but all the same, Jared's glad that Jensen decided to write something he knows.

He's never told Misha about the three-way. Back then, there'd been so much else going on, and now, with how ill-defined their relationship is--some days, Jared feels like a squatter, others he's sure Misha thinks of him as his boyfriend--Jared's never felt comfortable bringing it up. Besides, while the event itself may have felt momentous to Jared, he's come to realize that it was a meaningless blip on everyone else's radar.

Jared leans over and looks down the hall, where he's got David's artwork framed and hanging. They're Jared's only addition to Misha's house: three neatly-framed works on construction paper. The first is the picture of Jensen and David playing golf. The second one is of a sushi dinner. The last one, though, is a picture of David, Jensen and Jared, with Target in the background. That one is Jared's favorite.

"Damn," Jared says. Misha rouses from his book and looks at him. "He really wrote a book. And it got published. That's awesome."

"Yeah," Misha says, and stretches. "Sounds like he has some pretty serious daddy issues."

Jared blinks. He definitely hadn't gotten that from the review, but he trusts Misha in literary analysis above all things. "You think so?"

Misha shrugs. "Guy finds himself drawn to an older man, who helps him put his life back together after the death of his wife? Decides he likes dick, does everything the old man says until he realizes he's being a chickenshit, and then dumps him in order to find 'clarity'? Yeah, sounds like daddy issues to me."

"Huh," Jared says.

"What do you want for dinner?" Misha asks.

Jared isn't hungry. He picks up the paper and reads it again. He wonders how much of Jensen's novel is real. The book gets released next week. Jared makes a mental note to hit the bookstore.

*

Algebra's finally over and Jared heads out the school's front doors. He opens the door with his hip, checking his voicemail, surprised that there's a message from Sarah. Jared hasn't spoken to her since she'd sent that email…that he'd never responded to. If he's honest, it's probably because he didn't want to hear about how he's fucking up his sobriety. His sobriety is doing just fine..

She invites him to a show, says it'd be good to see him again. Jared saves the message. It's hard to think of the time before his mother's death objectively. To Jared, that time and all the people he knew, they're golden with the light of inexperience. Maybe it wasn't that long ago, but he feels like an old man now. It's like he never knew how good he had it until everything got so much worse.

Now he's living life throttled down and disconnected. The people he meets at school and at work are strangers; they stare at him like _he's_ strange. Maybe he'll see if Misha wants to go to Sarah's show. Maybe he can salvage some of his golden past to clear out the cobwebs of the present.

*

School is such a drag. Jared has to remind himself that it will be worthwhile, someday, to have a degree. He's at the age now where most of his peers are done with school, and he's barely started. Sometimes he wonders if he's just one of those people who won't ever have a higher education.

But then he goes to work and says stupid shit like, 'half-caf non-fat latte with a splenda? Coming right up.' And he knows that school will be worth it.

He's steaming milk when Jensen walks into the cafe where he works. Jared nearly scalds his boss, who's pulling shots next to him, when he catches sight of him.

Jared's covered in espresso grounds and curdled milk. Jensen looks immaculate. He smiles and Jared's heart aches. It's been nearly two years since he's last seen Jensen, and Jared gets an immediate flash of that last time: naked on the couch with Jeff. He blinks it away. "Hi!" he says, far too happy.

Jensen's answering smile is blinding. "Hey," he says. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"I work here. What are you doing here?"

"Actually, uh." Jensen fidgets with the crumpled money in his hands. He looks embarrassed. "I'm doing a book signing down the street. I needed fortification."

"Wow," Jared says. His boss gives him a dirty look. Jared wipes the steam wand down and says, "Gimme one sec."

Jensen places his order at the counter and Jared nearly strangles himself with his apron as he wrestles it off. He comes out from behind the counter and tackles Jensen in a hug. "Congratulations," he says, and holds tight a little bit longer before letting Jensen go. "On the book, man. That's freakin' awesome."

"Thanks," says Jensen.

"You finally did it. I read about it in the paper. I'm really proud of you."

"Thanks," Jensen says again. He stares at his coffee for a second. "How about you? How are you doing?"

"You know," he says. "Living. I got back a while ago."

"Yeah, I heard." When Jared cocks his head, Jensen elaborates. "David. He's been keeping me up to date."

"Right." Jared laughs.

"I'm sorry. About your mom."

"Oh." Jared waves a hand. "Yeah."

"I don't--"

"I can't--"

They both laugh, and Jared says, "You first."

Jensen shakes his head, shrugs. "I don't know what time you get off, but the book thing goes from seven to nine. If you're free..."

"Totally!" Jared says. "Yeah, man, I'm done at eight. I could come by."

Jensen smiles again. Jared's overcome by a powerful urge to kiss him. He folds his arms.

"That'd be cool. Only, come after nine. There's a reading, then Q and A, then signing. It's going to be brutal."

"Wow, Q and A?" Jared's never been to a book signing before. He doesn't know if that's normal or not. "Like, the audience is going to ask you questions and stuff?"

"Yeah," Jensen sighs. "It can get a little crazy. But it's part of the deal, you know? I have to do it. Have to get people interested in buying it."

"Jesus."

Jensen laughs. "So come by after. We'll hang out."

"Cool," Jared says, and they stand there looking at each other.

"Jared, get your ass back here," his boss says. She's not overly friendly.

"I gotta..." he says.

"Yeah. It's good to see you," Jensen says, and smiles again. Jared watches him go.

*

It's weird, Jared thinks, how amputated his past feels. He'd gone from seeing Jensen nearly every day to nothing, overnight, and the weirdness is compounded by the way they'd ended it. Jared's pretty sure that if he hadn't slept with Jensen and Jeff that last night, things could have been different. Better, maybe. Jared would have had to witness Jensen in love with someone else, but at least he would have had Jensen in his life. The way they left it just feels...incomplete.

Seeing him again wakes up all of the old feelings Jared had thought he'd been long done with. But they hadn't died, only gone underground, hibernating. It feels like he'd always known that, of all the people he'd loved and lost, Jensen was someone he'd see again.

It would take too long to go all the way home to shower and change, and anyway, he might run into Misha, who'd probably want to tag along, so Jared goes straight to the bookstore after work, even though he smells gross.

When he gets there the Q and A is still going on and he stands in the back. Jensen is up on a slightly raised stage, with a microphone and everything. He looks uncomfortable. Jared doesn't blame him. He gives a little wave from the back, and Jensen flashes him a brief grin in acknowledgement. A couple of people turn around to look at him; they whisper. Jared gets a sense of suddenly being part of the evening's entertainment. He hunches his shoulders in an effort to be less conspicuous.

A woman in a caftan asks him about his process, whether or not he has any rituals when he writes. Jared studies the back of her head and decides it's a stupid question.

Jensen answers it with grace and self-deprecation. He's charming. Jared figures that if Jensen's always like that, he's going to be the next Oprah pick. He's good-looking and well-spoken enough to be on TV. Jared hopes that happens. Jensen deserves to be famous.

A frail-looking bald man asks him the question Jared's sure Jensen's been dreading all night. "Your book is so visceral, your characters are so vivid," the man says. "I was wondering how much of it was based on real events. For instance, there's a scene where Ross and John are arguing and it's so well written, it feels so real, I thought it had to be based on fact."

Jensen coughs. He takes a sip of his coffee and says, "Well, thank you for the compliment." Jensen smiles and the audience laughs. "Some of the events in the novel are loosely based on fact, but none of the dialogue is taken from real life. It's, you know, fiction. I think that every good story is inspired, on some level, by our experiences. It's what others relate to, right? It's what stories are for. We read them and we feel less alone."

Someone else asks Jensen what he thinks of the fact that his work is being described as Gay Lit. Jensen responds, "Yeah, this is an interesting one, because when I wrote the book, I really didn't see it as any kind of coming out story, you know? I didn't think of it as gay at all. I mean, sure, that's a part of it, but I think it's...it's unfortunate that we have this need to ghettoize novels, isn't it? As if by pigeonholing writers, we can just dismiss what they have to say, because it doesn't relate to us. I mean, I get that we like to categorize everything, and I'm by no means unhappy with being described as a gay writer, but reducing a story to a convenient little tag, like 'queer lit' or 'chick lit' feels kind of...I don't know. Dismissive. Might as well call the book 'disability lit' or 'single-parent childhood lit' for all that it describes what happens. All I hope is that the novel speaks to you. I think that's all any writer can hope for."

The questions go on. Jared's seriously impressed with Jensen's calm, and now he's even more interested in reading Jensen's book. The tidbits of information he's getting out of the questions and answers are doing nothing but piquing his interest. Despite his empathy for Jensen's resistance to being interpreted through his work, Jared can admit to himself that he wants to read the book to get a glimpse into Jensen's version of events. He kind of shamefully, half-hopefully wants to find himself reflected in Jensen's words.

Finally it's over and people are lined up to get Jensen's signature and nervously stutter their appreciation at him. Jared hangs back and watches. From time to time Jensen will look his way and smile. Once, he rolls his eyes and smirks, as if it's hilarious that all of these people are here for him.

Jared's the last one in line. He pays for a copy--screw it, the electricity bill can wait--and slips his receipt between the pages. He flips the book to the first page, where the inscription reads, _For Jay, who asked me what I wanted to write about._ Jared feels his face heat up unbearably.

Jensen takes the book from Jared's shaking hands, one eyebrow arched. He tilts the book at an angle and scribbles in it. Jared looks around at the bookstore employees who are folding up chairs and dismantling the display.

Jensen shuts the book with a snap and stands up, stretching. He breathes out a long breath and says, "Sorry that took so long."

"Are you kidding?" Jared says. "That was awesome. Man, you're, like, famous and stuff."

Jensen laughs. "Want to get out of here?"

"Definitely."

The street is packed when they get outside. It's Friday night, early, and everyone's just getting started on a long night's drunk. Jared hasn't been to a meeting in years, another part of himself that he's shed since he used to know Jensen, but he still doesn't drink either. They walk side by side up the street, passing clothing stores, the movie theater, the cookie shop and more bars than Jared can count. If he were normal, he'd suggest that they stop in one. He can imagine that being drunk right now would help, but he isn't normal and so he doesn't.

He's always liked this neighborhood. While he wouldn't exactly call it welcoming, it's not unwelcoming, either. It's sort of...casually disinterested, and Jared likes that. It's busy and alive and Jared can get lost in it if he wants to.

"Where do you feel like going?" he asks.

"Wherever. You hungry?"

Jared can always eat. Even on a night as thick and humming as this one. "Sure," he says. They end up at an all-night diner around the corner. Jensen orders a cheeseburger, and Jared says, "I'll have the same," when the waitress looks at him.

They lean back in their seats and Jared fiddles with the wrapper on his straw. Jared still hasn't read what Jensen wrote in his copy of the book and he's dying to, but he's afraid of what it'll say. He could just ask, but he's even more afraid of that.

"So," he says, after a while.

"Yeah," says Jensen.

"Shit, it's been what, two years?"

"More than," Jensen says.

"So, obviously you've been busy," Jared says, and Jensen laughs. "What else have you been doing?"

"Well." Jensen raises his eyebrow again. "I guess you haven't read the book yet."

Jared laughs, a genuine laugh. "Not yet. You tell me in your own words."

Jensen shifts in his seat. "I quit the law firm. About a year-and-a-half ago. I started working over at Creative Growth, the place where David does his art?"

"Oh yeah? That's cool. David must love seeing you more."

"Yeah," Jensen says and smiles. "It's cool. I broke up with Jeff." Jared nods, having gleaned that much from the Q and A. He's not going to lie, it made him more than a little happy to hear it. "We just." Jensen shakes his head, stares out the window. "He's a great person, and he was exactly what I needed at the time, but. I don't know. I think we grew apart."

Jared nods again, encouraging Jensen to continue.

"And, uh. I don't know. I've been writing a lot." Jensen quirks a smile. "How about you?"

"Well, I went back home, as you know. Was there about eight months, until I made enough for a bus ticket back. Other than that, not much. Got back into school. And uh, you've seen where I work," he says, and smiles. He doesn't mention that he lives with Misha; he doesn't examine why.

Their food arrives and the silence becomes functional instead of awkward. Jensen lets Jared pick fries off his plate.

"Do you keep in touch with anyone from the law firm?" Jared asks.

Jensen snorts. "If you can believe it, Jeff's dating his secretary."

Jared laughs a startled chuckle. "Seriously?"

"Yeah. She's twenty-two. Sweet girl." Jensen shakes his head. It's clear that he has opinions about this, but doesn't elaborate. "And Mike and Tom and Katie are still dating."

"What? All three? When did that happen?"

"You were there, dude. Remember when they were always out sick?"

Jared blinks. "Wait, so _that's_ what was going on? I thought Mike was just making that up."

Jensen laughs. "I wish," he says.

"Huh," says Jared. "No shit. Well, good for them."

"Yeah, I guess. Tom took over your position, so now all three of them work in the mailroom. Let me tell you, nobody goes in there anymore."

Jared cackles. He can totally picture it. "Bet the lawyers love that."

"They go to Kinko's now if they need something in a hurry. Human Resources tried to figure out a way to fire one of them, but there's no rules about threesomes in the office."

Jared chokes on a french fry. He feels his face heat up to match the shade of pink that Jensen gets. "Uh," he says.

"Yeah," Jensen says. "I guess we should address the elephant in the room, huh?"

Jared shrugs. "We don't have to."

"Yeah, but if you're going to read my book, we'll probably have to sooner or later."

Jared's surprised. He doesn't know why. If he'd thought about it for even half a second, he probably would have guessed that their little experiment had made the book. "You wrote about that?"

Jensen shifts, obviously uncomfortable. "Yeah. I probably should have gotten your permission first."

Jared hadn't been thinking about it in those terms. Frankly, he hadn't been thinking at all. At least, not with his upstairs brain. "Well, I mean. It's. You lived it, too, right? As far as I'm concerned, it's your story to tell."

Although, that does make Jared wonder. "What did Jeff say about it? Does he know he's in your book?"

"Um. Kind of. I wrote him an email, asking if he'd get litigious about his likeness or whatever. My publisher demanded it, actually." Jensen laughs. "He said, 'Jensen, if John is in any way, no matter how remotely, based on an actual lawyer? I'm going to need a signed release.'"

Jared laughs. "Excellent point."

"So I sent him the email and he said he didn't care what I did, so long as I didn't use his actual name or the name of the firm. He knows he'd never win if he sued, creative license and whatnot, so he said he'd wait and see what kind of shitstorm ended up brewing first."

"Shit." Jared whistles. "Sounds like it got kind of ugly."

Jensen nods his head in assent. "It really did."

They sit and talk for a long time after they're done eating. Their waitress comes by with more and more frequency, checking to see if they need anything else. Eventually Jared realizes she wants her table back when he looks up and sees the line of drunk people waiting for scrambled eggs and burritos. They make their way outside slowly.

It's started to rain. Not a hard rain, only a drizzle, but enough to get in his eyes and make standing around uncomfortable. Jared says, "You still live in the same place?"

"Yeah," Jensen says. "Where are you at, now?"

Jared leans against a brick wall. "Actually, uh. You remember my friend, Misha?"

"Yeah, vegan spiritual guy, right?"

"Yeah," Jared says. "He moved over here a while ago; he's letting me stay with him." In the time Jared had been away, Misha had moved out of the silly, rainbow-covered monstrosity in the slightly-shady old neighborhood to this part of town. Miles and a bridge away from where Jensen lives.

"Ah," Jensen says, and Jared can tell that they're both thinking the same thing.

"So," Jared says.

"Yeah. Listen, read the book if you feel like it. I gave you my number...in case..."

"Definitely," Jared says.

"Okay," says Jensen, and they both stand there looking at each other for a while. "I'm gonna," he hooks a thumb behind him, toward the subway stop.

"Sure." It's late. Jensen probably has to get up in a few hours.

Jared smiles and Jensen smiles, too. Jared straightens up, ready to head in the opposite direction. Jensen looks at him for a beat, then catches his arm and brings him in for a kiss.

It's tentative. Like their first kiss. Then it goes on, and Jared shifts closer. He opens his mouth and Jensen opens his and it's deeper. It starts to mean something else. Jared's astonished, and then pleased, and then his heart expands to twice its normal size. Jensen's tongue slides along his own, briefly, and then is gone.

"Okay," Jensen says.

"Yeah," says Jared.

"Talk to you soon." And there's the barest hint of a question there.

Jared says, "Definitely." And then Jensen's walking to the subway.

*

Jared reads the entire book that night, cover to cover. It's told in the first person, and it's the story of Ross, the protagonist, and his brother Derrick, who has a developmental disability. They grow up in relative privilege in L.A., but their father leaves the family when Ross is still young. Ross feels the loss acutely, feeling like it's somehow his fault. He helps raise Derrick with his mom; he gets into fights at school when people pick on Derrick and ends up with a reputation as a troublemaker. He almost flunks out of school. Eventually they move to Marin, partially because of Ross' behavior problems, and Ross meets Danielle, a wild, passionate artist who needs him, and he falls deeply in love. They instigate each other to increasingly crazy stunts, petty mischief escalating to misdemeanors and hair-raising near misses with police. Jared finds his palms are sweaty as he turns the pages. Even though he knows that "Ross" makes it out okay, he's caught up in the mayhem as the story unfolds.

The way Jensen describes himself and Danni surprises Jared. They're like a latter day Sid and Nancy. Jared never would have guessed that Jensen had that kind of anger inside him.

Eventually it starts to unravel, like Jared knew it had to, and Ross tells the story of Danielle's descent into mental illness and addiction; his total inability to cope with it. He talks about what an utter failure he is, and about how he feels that Danielle's death is his fault. He spends years rebuilding his life out of the ashes of his tortured, too-short and unquestionably toxic relationship with Danielle. Ross describes himself as a sleepwalker, going through the motions of adulthood, doing what other people expect him to with no real connection to anyone or anything. Jared feels a deep upwelling of empathy; he can relate to that feeling. He never knew that Jensen had felt that, too.

And then Ross meets John, a handsome and charismatic older man who takes Ross under his wing. Almost a mentor, who brings Ross out of his shell. John shows him how his life has been stagnating, and he shows him a way out of it. To the surprise of both of them, the relationship turns sexual.

Jared gets extremely uncomfortable reading that part. Ross describes his first time with John, how awkward it is, and how he'd never had any kind of experience with gay sex before—or, really, even with simple masculine affection—but how it suddenly makes a lot of sense for Ross. How the relationship fills a need that Ross didn't know he had.

Through his connection to John, Ross understands that his whole life, he'd felt responsible for the well-being of others, and he has an epiphany: he doesn't have to shoulder that burden any more. For a while, Ross lets John take the weight off his shoulders. He follows John in everything, taking suggestions as gospel. When John says he should move out of Danielle's mother's house, Ross does it. They talk about Ross' career trajectory and about how Ross wants to make a place for Derrick in his life. John almost convinces Ross to let Derrick go to a home for people with developmental disabilities.

Then Jay comes along. This part makes Jared even more uncomfortable. Jared reads the description of himself with something akin to awe. He knows, intellectually, that Jay is based on him, but while the characters so far had been recognizable as the people he'd known, Jay is wildly inaccurate.

Jay is handsome and tall, a little subversive and potentially dangerous--reminding Ross of the things he misses about Danielle--but ultimately forthright and affectionate. Jay, Ross realizes, isn't like anyone he's met before. He may share some traits with Danielle, but he isn't self-destructive, despite what Ross initially thinks. He's not constricting, in the way Ross sometimes feels like John is. He doesn't expect anything from Ross but for Ross to be himself. And Derrick likes him, which is an automatic check in the plus column for Ross. Jay's almost a mythical creature of goodness. Jared has to laugh, imagining himself as some kind of unicorn.

Jay helps Ross figure out his relationship with John. Jensen writes Jay as confident and self-assured, a gay man who knows that there are societal expectations around being such, but doesn't feel pressured into conformity. Jared can only wish half of this were true. He feels kind of guilty, like he's been lying to Jensen about who he is. Jensen writes him like some kind of hero. In real life, Jared isn't anywhere close to being that confident.

But in the story, he's like some kind of catalyst. Through Ross' ruminations on Jay, Ross is able to separate out what he feels he owes to John from what he really wants. Jay's a talismanic figure, and the dramatic crux of the book is the three-way.

Ross and John talk about it for multiple chapters before it happens. John's the one who brings it up first, which surprises Jared. He tries to remember where he was when all of this discussion was happening. He never would have guessed that it had been Jeff's idea, although, even in the book, it's fairly obvious that Jeff did it as a last-ditch attempt to keep Jensen's affections. Even filtered through Ross' point of view, Jared can tell that Jeff was deeply in love with Jensen, and knew that he couldn't make Jensen love him back the way he wanted. Maybe Jeff was trying too hard. Through the fear that grips him as he flips the pages, Jared spares a moment to feel bad for Jeff. He wasn't all bad, after all, even if he turned out to be a little too controlling. Jared can see that he only tried to do what Jensen needed him to do.

The actual events are described fairly accurately, from what Jared remembers. It's kind of amazing to see Jensen's point of view on it. It's written explicitly enough to earn the 'Gay Lit' description, regardless of Jensen's wishes; it's hot enough to sell a whole lot of copies, just on that scene alone.

At the time, the sex had seemed spontaneous. He'd assumed, afterwards, that it had been a minor anomaly for Jeff and Jensen. Evidently, he'd been wrong. It's definitely one of the weirder things that Jared's experienced, reading about himself, however fictionalized, having sex. It's crazy reading about Jensen's thoughts and feelings, looking at Jay as he sucks his cock, needing the reassurance of Jeff's presence. His nervousness beforehand, his insecurity about being good enough. Jared's torn between skipping the scene altogether and wanting to call Jensen, right now, and tell him everything that he'd felt in that moment. In the end, he reads the three-way scene twice and resolutely ignores his hard-on.

After that scene, Jay disappears and Ross is convinced that it's his fault. That he's some kind of parasite that just takes and takes from everyone around him, incapable of giving. He thinks he's ruined his friendship and possibly his relationship with John in the process. Jensen doesn't mention the actual reason for Jared's leaving. Jared finds himself grateful for that. Plus, Jared thinks, it makes for a better story if Jay's reasons are left mercurial.

The fights between John and Ross escalate, turn ugly with accusations of infidelity. Ross tells John that he's suffocating. He says that he doesn't recognize himself anymore, because he's all twisted around to please John. John says that Ross is just using him until something better comes along.

The second half of the book gets really sad, detailing the breakup in excruciating detail. Jared imagines Jensen coming home night after night, spilling out his pain on paper. He can see how that guy called the writing visceral. It makes him wish Jensen were there with him as he reads, so he could give him a hug. In a weird way, Jared could use a hug, too. He hadn't realized until he'd started reading, that along with not wanting to see Jensen happy with Jeff, a large part of the reason he'd never called Jensen, afterward, was the fact that he felt broken inside. But now he understands that Jensen never saw him as broken. In fact, it's a little incredible, the way Jensen describes him.

And he gets, now, too, what Jensen had said at the signing: that reading other people's stories helps us feel a little less alone. He never knew that Jensen felt broken, too.

Eventually, Ross does the hard but healthy thing and breaks up with John. Jay's still gone, but Ross realizes that this is actually a good thing: Ross needs some time on his own, to make his own choices. He changes a lot of things about his life. He quits his job and decides he's going to write a book. The final chapter is filled with more hope than sadness. The tone changes, and Ross starts reconnecting with old friends. He starts working with his brother, and the details of their exchanges are sweet and funny. Ross seems like he's in a good place by the end. The last line of the book is: _I still miss Jay._

It's way too early in the morning to call Jensen, no matter how badly Jared wants to. Now that he's done, he flips back to the dedication page and reads what Jensen wrote there. It says, 'I still miss you.'

*

The world has that unearthly quality it takes on when he hasn't had enough sleep. Jared's leaning against the wall, but it feels more like floating. He didn't go to bed last night, and he barely remembers what happened in class this afternoon, but finally, _finally_ it's the end of the day and he's standing in front of Creative Growth and there are buses lined up along the curb and people are coming out, individually and in groups. Some are holding artwork. None of them so far have been David or Jensen.

"Jared!" Jared looks around and sees David coming out of a side door, followed by Jensen.

"David, hey!" Jared says, hugging back when David tackles him. "How's it going, man?"

"Great. I haven't seen you in a long time."

"Yeah," Jared says. "Sorry about that. I promise next time it won't be so long."

"Better not be."

"What have you got there?" Jared points to the stack of paper in David's hand.

"These are my wrestlers," David says.

Jensen comes up to stand next to them. Jared gives him a smile, and he returns it. "David's doing a series."

"Oh yeah? That's awesome."

"Yeah. I'm going to have a whole show to myself."

"That is seriously cool," Jared says. "Wow, your whole family's talented."

Jensen laughs. "Yeah, all we need now is for Mom to start tap-dancing and we could be the Osmonds."

They all laugh. David says, "Jared, you should come to my show."

"I wouldn't miss it. When is it?"

David looks at Jensen, who says, "In a couple of months. Right before Christmas."

"Awesome," Jared says.

"So, David, you got everything?"

"Yeah, I think so," David says.

"Okay, you don't want to miss your bus. I'll see you tomorrow, kay? Give Mom a hug for me."

"Okay. See you tomorrow. Bye, Jared."

"Bye, David. I'll see you soon."

Jensen helps David onto his bus, and then they're alone on the sidewalk.

All day, Jared had been thinking about what he'd say when he got to this point. He has a thousand questions, and he'd thought up a bunch of suave opening lines, but now he's drawing a complete blank. He stands there shyly.

"Hey," Jensen says.

Jared smiles. He says, "I read your book."

"Yeah?" Jensen leans against the wall with his hands in his coat pockets.

"Yeah," Jared says. "I miss you, too." And then he leans in and kisses Jensen.

 

[The End]


End file.
